


Anarky Rising

by Yoru_The_Rogue



Series: DC Yoru'verse: The Guen Trilogy [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Multi, My OCs, OC-centric, OC-heavy, Other, Personal Headcanon 'Verse, Sequel, THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY BEING BETA READ HALLELUJAH, The DC Yoru-Verse, also called the 'Freaky Saga' by my friends, i canon-blend like there's no tomorrow, last in a trilogy, my friends' OCs, ocxcanon, some OCxOC, will edit here and there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-24 01:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15619617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoru_The_Rogue/pseuds/Yoru_The_Rogue
Summary: A new masked-and-caped figure takes to the skyline of Gotham City, and his name is Anarky. At first glance, it appears Anarky is both jockeying for Batman's position as Gotham's protector and at the same time, trying to become the city's top rogue! He's certainly a confusing fellow, especially so to Wraith and her associate Gary Myers. But when Anarky warns them of an even greater threat looming closer to Gotham, a threat he claims cost the lives of both Wraith's father and Gary's father, can they trust him? Can Batman pull Anarky from the brink of insanity? And if Wraith doesn't go crazier from Anarky getting between her and Riddler, does that mean she might have feelings for the impish masked man...?





	1. I Bow To No One

“Give it up, Wraith!”

The thief kept the shaft of her scythe tight to her side, doing her best to stay out of sight.

“Did you really think that you could come to Star City and this place would be easier pickings?”  The question rang and echoed off the walls, and she silently began to move in the confined office building, taking care to keep down as best as she could to avoid being seen.  She gritted her teeth, anxious to be out of the place.

“Well, it’s starting to look like I made a bad call on that!” she yelled back before darting down a side hall and through a door.  There was a twanging sound and a rush of air, and an arrow thudded into the wall, just inches above her head.

She swore and ran to her left, abandoning all pretense of stealth as she ran to the elevator doors.  Three more twangs of the high-tech bow, three more dull thuds as the arrows missed her.  Then she was inside the elevator, rapidly smashing the button for the roof over and over, panicking as the archer in green ran toward her, nocking another arrow.  The doors slid shut just as the arrow _thunked_ into the back wall of the elevator, inches from her ear.  The floor gave a small lurch, and the elevator rose, giving her a moment to relax, exhaling hoarsely.

“So long, Arrow,” she sighed.

The elevator came to a shuddering stop at the roof level, and the doors slid open with a musical chime.

“Oh, mother fudge bucket,” she muttered, staring down another nocked arrow.

“Miss me, bird-girl?” The vigilante asked before letting the arrow fly.  It burst open in mid-air, and before Wraith could move to bring her bracelets together, the net-mesh was pinning her down, trapping her arms and wings.  In seconds, she was being dragged from the elevator and dumped unceremoniously on the rooftop.

“Sorry to cut your little ‘shopping spree’ short, missy,” Green Arrow remarked, pulling a smart phone from his belt and running his fingers over the touchscreen, “But I have a low tolerance level for bullcrap in my city.  So don’t try to feed me any about why you’re here.  Bullcrap, that is.”

“Thanks for not trying to make bad puns,” she huffed.  “Think you could give Batman a few pointers on that?”

“Since I’m texting him to come pick you up, I’ll be sure to mention that for his Bat-suggestion box or whatever,” he replied happily, and a second later his phone beeped.  “Oh, well lucky you!  He’s already in the area, so he’ll be here any minute.”

“Wait, what?  You’re actually texting Batman.  He _texts_?”

“Actually, I think his car does.  Show-off.”

The thief rolled her eyes and wriggled slightly in the net-mesh.  If she could just get her wrists loose…

“Now that’s settled,” Green Arrow said, reattaching the phone to his belt before kneeling down to stare her in the eye.  “Why did you break into Star Labs, Wraith?”

“No reason,” she said quickly, looking away and pretending she wasn’t struggling.

“A medical lab isn’t your style, given what I’ve read,” he pressed, his gaze weighing heavily on her.  “An art gala, maybe.  You have an eye for ‘pretty’ things.  So what’s your angle here, then?”

“I needed to know something.  And I doubted I could have walked in and just made an appointment for it.”

“Given your criminal history, I think it would have been difficult, but not impossible.  Why?  What information was so important to get that you couldn’t wait for legal means?”

“Time,” she said softly.

“Time?” he repeated.

“Yeah…I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Green Arrow paused for a long moment, mulling in nearly palpable frustration.  Finally, he answered, “Fine.  You don’t want to talk to me, whatever.  But Batman probably won’t give you much of a choice.”

She chose not to respond to that, mostly because he had an incredibly valid point.  She was expecting an interrogation from Batman.  He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.  It was just part of how he rolled.  And quite frankly, she would more than happily answer questions from him than either of her older half-brothers.  He would handle it better.

“You ever thought about reforming?”

She glanced up sharply, puzzled.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I said, have you ever thought about reforming?” Green Arrow repeated.  “You know, go through therapy, serve your time, start a whole new life?”

The way he asked, he sounded genuine about it, like he was asking because he actually cared about seeing that happen for her.  Relaxing a little, she nodded.

“That’s what Guen wants.  That is…what _I_ want.  Not _me_ , but the _other_ me,” she answered.  “She wants to start over.  Me, I just want to protect her.”

“And break into a medical lab,” He added, raising an eyebrow.  “What brought this on?  I thought you were on probation of some kind.”

She winced slightly.  “Okay, maybe I lied a bit,” she admitted, “I _am_ working as a criminal consultant as terms of my probation.  Detective Ellen Yin of the Gotham P.D. is my handler.”

“So you _have_ been trying to reform!” Green Arrow said, mildly surprised.  “So then what was all this about?  Are you on an assignment?  If you are, then why didn’t you just say so?!”

“Would you have believed her and stood down if she had?” A new voice interrupted.  The two jumped slightly, turning to see a dark silhouette near the edge of the roof approaching them with slow, deliberate steps.  Green Arrow bristled visibly.

“Alright, fair enough,” he conceded grudgingly.  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just tolerate _your_ people showing up and trying anything in my city without some heads-up first.”

“It won’t happen again,” Batman replied with a sort of stony finality in his voice.  Wraith’s wings puffed in mild alarm, but neither man gave any sign that they noticed this.  Batman approached her in a few swift strides, withdrawing a bat-a-rang from his utility belt.  He knelt down, sawing the cables of the netting away with the edge of his weapon, and Green Arrow gave a distinct noise of irritation at the sight.

“Whew, thanks, Bats,” Wraith sighed, slowly getting to her feet and rubbing her calves.  “I was starting to cramp under there.”

He was already moving before she finished speaking, and with a slight stab of annoyance, she started trotting after him toward the edge of the roof.

“So that’s it then?” Green Arrow called after them, sounding rather put out.  Batman turned his head just enough to show his profile, but his gaze was locked on the roof’s edge.

“I owe you one,” he replied curtly, and before the other vigilante could respond, he leapt down and out of sight.  Wraith tossed Green Arrow a shrug.

“See ya, Robin Hood,” she said by way of farewell, and jumped from the edge of the roof after the caped crusader, unfurling her wings.

Below, the Batmobile was parked in wait, its engine rumbling softly, the roof open.  Batman himself was already buckled into the driver’s seat, and staring fixedly at the road ahead.  Her wings slowed her fall, and she landed in the passenger seat with ease, situating herself and folding her wings in as tightly as she could.  She decided to forego the seatbelt; even if she didn’t have the problem of her extra limbs, she highly doubted anyone would pull Batman over for a seatbelt ticket.  The roof slid shut with a smooth click, and Batman shot forward into drive.

“Yow!  Could you maybe _try_ not to give me whiplash?”

“Why were you at Star Labs, Wraith?”

“Ha, you’re direct as ever.”

“Answer the question.”

She looked over at him, trying to gauge his mood.  His masked face looked as impassive as ever, but his tone was sharp and strained.

“I _know_ you weren’t there on an assignment,” he continued.  “Detective Yin would have informed me.  I helped you evade Green Arrow’s full questioning; the _least_ you can do, is tell _me_ why that is.”

She crossed her arms and leaned on the window, feeling surly.  But even as her thoughts dared to stray, there came a small nudge of sorts from the back of Wraith’s mind, and she sank into herself, letting her other personality take charge.

“Sorry, Batman,” Guenhivyre Pendragon said with a bit of a sigh.  “Wraith decided to be impulsive because I was worried, and I didn’t try to stop her.”

“And what kind of worry leads to an _impulse_ to break into a lab in Star City?”

Guen turned her large, frightened green eyes to Batman and took a deep breath.

*****

It wasn’t unusual for anyone who worked in the Gotham City Police Department to have such a bad day at one point they went storming like a raging thunderhead of clouds through HQ.  But if the average officer looked like a thunderhead when furious, then at that moment, Detective Ellen Yin more closely resembled a fast-moving hurricane wall.  A broken tracking anklet was clutched in one white-knuckled fist, and in her other hand, she was trying not to break her cell phone.  Several officers leapt out of her way as she charged up to the roof, her dark ponytail flying behind her.

“Detective, what—“ someone tried to speak to her, but if anything, she only increased her pace, reaching the staircase and taking it two steps at a time.  The tracking anklet’s signal was broadcast to HQ, and when the silent alert had triggered that the anklet had been broken, Yin and Montoya had been working on a sting on a weapons trafficking operation.  Needless to say she had been furious when the call from HQ had informed her that her criminal consultant had escaped, and the last night and a half, she had been trying without success to track Wraith down.

Her fury now was primarily a matter of pride.  Yin had been the best in Metropolis P.D. before life had brought her to Gotham, and she had risen through the ranks to a high position, recommended by Detective Renée Montoya, her senior in the department.  To have a criminal consultant given to Yin to be handled was a huge deal, but Wraith slipping away like this could sour the whole thing.

“She won’t get away with this,” Yin snarled as she charged up the stairs and onto the roof, heading directly for the Batsignal, “I won’t let her just—“

“Let me what, detective?”

Yin spun and aimed, sighting down her gun at the winged thief.

“Put the gun away,” a second voice growled, as Batman materialized from the shadows behind Wraith, “It’s just us, detective.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied, though she did lower the gun by several inches, “Miss Pendragon broke her tracking anklet and has evaded police custody for forty-eight hours.”

“With good reason.” Batman countered.

“ _Really?_ ” Yin never dropped her skeptical tone as she glared at Wraith.  “Mind sharing those reasons with me?”

But the thief’s mouth tightened and she took a step back, giving the dark knight a significant look.  A surge of annoyance rose in the female detective.  So her criminal consultant was going to hide behind the Bat’s cape, was she?

“Detective,” Batman began, but she moved to get past him and to Wraith.  She was unsuccessful though, as he moved faster than she, and prevented her from getting to the thief.  “Detective, stop.  She may not be ready to share all the details with you yet, but she had her reasons.”

“And I suppose _you_ know what they all _are_ , don’t you?” Yin snapped.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone brooking no argument, “I do.”

She glared up at him for a moment before turning her furious look upon Wraith, who shuffled uneasily from foot to foot.

“Don’t think for a _single_ second that you’re getting off scot-free on this, Pendragon,” she snapped, “Whether you tell me now or later _why_ you broke out of my custody, there are going to be consequences for your actions.”

She jammed her gun back into its holster, and Wraith gave a slow, solemn nod.

“Trust me detective, I know.”

*****

Gary Myers wasn’t necessarily what one could call “respected” among the rogues of Gotham, not for his rogue identity at any rate.  Nobody was immediately quick to take someone by the moniker of “The Dungeonmaster” very seriously.  His ability with robotics and computers however, was another matter completely.  If anyone laughed at Gary for identifying with an integral part of “his game”, they typically stopped laughing when they realized exactly what he did.  His particular gift for creating near-intelligent automatons was something he took great pride in.  His own high intelligence was something else he also took great pride in.

But pride is the downfall of all men sooner or later, and Gary was staring down a particularly nasty predicament and just beginning to realize how much trouble his pride was really getting him into.

_Alright, Gary,_ he thought to himself as he watched the enraged redheaded woman’s face darken, _this is one of the absolute dumbest things you have ever done._

 _But it’s not my fault,_ he argued with his thoughts, _no stupid, skinny cow is going to use some pheromone mojo dust to turn ME into her personal monkey._

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Poison Ivy said testily.  “Now—“

“See, there’s your problem,” Gary snapped waspishly, talking loudly over her despite a small part of his brain protesting he was digging an even bigger grave now, “You’ve not been _asking_ me at all.  You’ve been _ordering_ me around, or at least trying to.  And nobody _orders_ Gary Myers to do anything, especially if they’re trying to cheat and use magic drug dust to get me to comply.  Sorry, but you aren’t getting _anything_ out of me, period.”

Poison Ivy’s face turned a brilliant shade of red-purple in her rage, and she began to shake silently.  Gary was given to the impression she was trying very hard not to strangle him in that instant.  He refused to back down, however.  She was _not_ going to turn him into some obedient little monkey.

“Very well, then.” She said in a voice of forced calm.  “If you won’t be a good little boy on your own, far be it from me to pursue a lost cause.”

His brows knitted together in suspicion as he kept his gray eyes locked on the plant lady.  No way it was just going to be _that_ easy.  It never was, not with any of the big-name rogues.

“But I will _not_ stand to be insulted, little man!” She snapped, her green eyes blazing.  “You will regret this.”

He barely heard it in time: a fleshy, slithering sound from somewhere to the left.  With a yell, Gary flung himself to the right, just narrowly dodging a huge vine that slammed into the ground where he had been standing.  But in the process, he had crossed the path of a second vine, which rammed into him and sent him flying.  He spun over and over, landing painfully, only just managing to catch himself on his hands and knees.  The second vine arched in the air, a snake ready to strike, and Gary pushed himself into a run, adrenaline exploding into his body.  The plants crashed into the ground behind him, too close for comfort.

“Get back here!” Poison Ivy shouted.

“So you can turn me into fertilizer?” Gary yelled, not looking back as he darted out of the greenhouse.  “No, thanks!  I think I’ll pass!”

A second later, the full weight of his predicament hit him like a brick as he realized he was leaving the main greenhouse and running straight toward a hedge maze.

“N’aww, crap.” He muttered.

There was an explosion of glass behind him as plants burst through the barriers to get to him, and he took off running again.  After all, between Scylla and Charybdis, hadn’t Odysseus taken the maelstrom whirlpool and navigated his ship through it?  Dealing with Ivy and her plants head-on was a stupid idea, but navigating the hedge maze, perhaps he stood a chance.  His gym shoes took him skidding and sliding down the earthen path, and he broke into an awkward run when he reached the entrance to the maze.  Shrieks pierced the air as he bumped and crashed through the path in the maze, and he knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut that the crazy plant lady was chasing him.

_Keep it together,_ he told himself frantically as he wove his way through twists and turns, _You can still get out of this in one piece, but you have got to focus._

The path took him down a trail that zigzagged sharply, and it was around this point that he heard plants crashing behind him.  Poison Ivy had entered the maze.  Swearing softly, Gary ran until he came to a fork where the path branched out into two.  He swore again.  If only he’d thought to link up with Kyle and Cassandra prior to this, he could have them guide him to safety.

There was a tiny, staticky squawk from the comm-link ear-bud in his ear, and he jumped.  There was no way—!!  A voice he didn’t recognize issued over the comm.

“Go to your left.  Follow the path that stays closest to the wall.” The voice commanded.

“Who is this?” Gary demanded, even as his feet obeyed and he ran to the path on the left.  “How did you hack my frequency?”

“Ah-ah-ah!  That would be telling,” the voice answered mischievously, “There’s a sharp right coming up, followed immediately by a sharp left.”

He complied with the directions, slamming once or twice into a hedgerow before the path hugged the wall of the greenhouse.  There came another scream of rage behind him.

“Ooh, _she’s_ mad, isn’t she?” The voice had a hint of mild amusement in it.  “Turn left again up here.  The right-hand branch is a useless loop.”

He hung a hard left as a stitch grew in his chest.

“Call it a talent of mine.” He gasped for breath.

“Ticking off women does _not_ sound like a talent to be proud of, Mister Myers.” The voice remarked.  “Take the next path on the right, then the second left opening.”

Gary skidded to a halt before the next branch, growing all the more suspicious as he tried to catch his breath.

“Hold on a second!  I don’t know who you are, and you won’t tell me, so what in the name of all things holy makes you think I’m just going to trust you?”

“You don’t really have time to question this, Myers,” the voice answered smoothly, “Unless of course, you want to be captured by the angry mutant with deadly foliage and pheromone dust at her beck-and-call.”

Swearing again, Gary stumbled to the right and willed himself to continue running.  But it was getting harder and harder to keep up this pace.  He wasn’t cut out for chases, and he was definitely out of shape.  Part of him wanted desperately to call his Behir automaton again, but he had summoned it a while ago already when Ivy had first approached him, and it still wasn’t here.

_I need a better escape plan than this lunacy,_ he thought.  But he didn’t have time to really work it out; without warning, the hedgerows budded and burst into bloom with hundreds of little pink-and-white flowers.  The flowers lunged, bursting from the tall hedges and surging toward him.  And he made the mistake of taking a split-second glance at them.

Screaming, Gary was dragged into the midst of the plants, kicking and straining against the vines that gripped him like snake coils as he was pulled deeper into the maze.  His glasses were dislodged from his face and vanished somewhere, and the world at a distance blurred.  His panic spiked.  His chances at escape were getting precariously thin.

“Nice try, _Dungeonmaster_ ,” Poison Ivy said in mocking tones, “But stupid.   _Very_ stupid to think you could get away from me in my own maze.”

“Not stupid,” he growled in response, continuing to thrash and fight the plants wildly, “Just—needed—to buy—time.”

As if on cue, he felt the tiniest of tremors build up through the floor.  Oblivious apparently, Poison Ivy loomed over him, snorting as her green eyes drilled into his gray ones.

“Buy time?  For _what_ , little man?”

The tremors grew stronger, shaking the floor beneath them and knocking her off the humongous plant she had been riding on.  She hit the floor with a shriek, causing him to smile grimly.  The ground broke apart with a tremendous crack, and dirt showered down as a mechanical monster burst out of the ground and let out a metallic roar.  Fifteen feet long with twelve clawed legs and a crocodilian head, the Behir automaton swept its long tail about and scooped up its master, tearing through the plants restraining him with ease.

“No!” Ivy shrieked in rage. “NO!!”

Another blast of sound issued from the Behir as it whipped around, snapping its jaws at the plants.  The long vines and sinister blossoms shrank back for a second and in that instant, the automaton shot away like a rocket, crashing through the maze single-mindedly as Gary scrambled up its back and Ivy screamed her rage.

“Good boy!” Gary gasped, finding the leather straps under the automaton’s neck plates and holding on for dear life.

“Now _that’s_ an impressive example of your robotic skills, Mister Myers!” The unknown voice crackled over his ear-bud again.  He scowled slightly as he squinted and tried to see where his automaton was heading. 

“Augh, _you’re_ still hanging around and hacking my frequency?!  Listen man, you’ve been _less_ than helpful to me—“ he started, but the voice cut him off quickly.

“Your automaton is modeled to tap into sources of electric currents and conduct them through the horns on its head.” It was a statement, not a question, and the Dungeonmaster began to wonder just _how_ much this mysterious hacker had found out about him.  His gut twisted uncomfortably and he nearly missed what was said next.  “I can rupture the nearby pipelines if you draw Ivy out close to the road.”

“Wait, what?!” Gary squawked.

“Oh, _please_ don’t make me spell it out for you,” the voice sighed, “I’ll be _so_ disappointed.”

The ear-bud abruptly went silent and he growled in irritation.  So now he was being given orders like some lackey, being made to follow someone _else’s_ plan?  He was the Dungeonmaster, for pity’s sake!  He wouldn’t bow to anyone; not Poison Ivy, and not this strange hacker!

More crashing issued behind him.

“You aren’t going anywhere, little man!”

He glanced over his shoulder and swore yet again.  Perhaps he would have to swallow his pride after all.  He yanked on the leather handholds and urged the automaton to where he knew the roadside phone wires stood.  The Behir roared again, holding its mouth open as it charged, an eerie rushing sound mixing with its cry in Gary’s ears.  Squinting ahead, he saw a peculiar pillar near the phone lines, one that hadn’t been there before.  And it was from there the rushing sound was originating.  Suddenly, all of it clicked into place.

“Hey, super-vegetable!” He shouted over his shoulder, grinning maniacally.  “This way!  See if you can keep up, slowpoke!”

Vines shot out, nearly knocking him off the automaton entirely, but it was worth the risk; Ivy’s plants were now coming into direct contact with the small geyser.  As she rushed towards him, Gary tapped a hand rapidly against the Behir’s side.

“Charge the water via the phone lines, boy!” He hissed, and the crocodilian jaws snapped down on the telephone wires.  Sparks flew and crackled, and electricity hummed and built around the horns on top of the automaton’s head.  Too late, Poison Ivy realized what his intent was.

“NO!!” She screamed, as bolts of energy shot from the metallic horns to the water soaking her monstrous plants.  Gary didn’t have time to see the plan work.  The plants thrashed violently and finally dislodged him.  He didn’t have time to draw breath for a scream as he flew through the air.

_Oh, I’m going to die._ The thought occurred to him, in a bit of surprise.   _I won’t be able to walk away from this._

Something slammed into him and he stopped falling.  An arm had a vice grip around his side and he began to rise into the air again, moving in an arch toward a building on the other side of the road, away from the female rogue and her shrieks of agony.  He gasped, willing himself not to flail and dislodge the grip of his savior.

“Well done, Dungeonmaster.  Looks like you didn’t need me to spell the plan out for you after all.”

The sound of the voice gave him a start and before he could glance up, he was deposited on the roof of the building.  Tumbling, he rolled a small distance before coming to a stop and shakily pushing himself up on his knees.  Poison Ivy’s screams died down, and he looked back across the road.  She collapsed onto her plants, which had turned a green-brown that reminded him of fried asparagus.  Nearby, his automaton had gone motionless.  He stared for what felt like ages, stunned, until he heard the clicking of booted footfalls on the roof and the clapping of gloved hands.

“You certainly can bring quite the cook-out to the party, can’t you, Dungeonmaster?” The smooth voice that had previously issued from his ear-bud was coming from what appeared to be a tall ghost.  Squinting, Gary rubbed his eyes vigorously and got to his feet.  The figure moved closer and paused with its hand outstretched.

“I expect you’ll be wanting these back?” It said lightly, and Gary sidled closer, taking something from the proffered hand.  He realized with a small shock it was his glasses, but he turned his face away to hide his surprise.

“Who are you?” He demanded, jamming his glasses back onto his nose.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the figure clicked its tongue in mild disapproval, “Not so much as a thank-you, Mister Myers?”

He looked back with a scowl.  What he had mistaken for a ghost was a man dressed from head-to-toe in a stark-white hooded costume.  The only bit of color on him came in the form of what appeared to be a silver utility belt, and an encircled black “A” splashed across his chest.  Begrudgingly, Gary stared into the hooded, expectant face and forced down his pride.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“ _That’s_ more like it!” The man said cheerfully.  “It’s so much better to work together when we can show a little gratitude here and there.”

“ ‘Work together’?” Gary echoed with a scoff.  “I don’t know how things work up in that chalky, pale head of yours, but here’s a newsflash for you: the Dungeonmaster works _alone_.”

“I don’t see why you insist on being so negative,” the man in white said reproachfully, “We make a decent team.”

“And I repeat, I work _alone_.”

He turned away, ready to leave, but the stranger wasn’t finished.

“Oh dear…then how do you explain your frequent collaborative contact with Kyle Roberts and Cassandra Derricks?  Or what about your willing team-up so recently with all those rogues against some crazed scientist?” came the cold demand.  Gary froze in his tracks.  So this guy knew about his friends, his contacts!  Anger burned in the Dungeonmaster, turning his blood hot.  He spun back around on his heel, to find the man in white smiling at him innocently.

“What do you want?” He demanded, clenching his fists.

“For the time being?” The man gave a light shrug.  “Allies.  I am about to go to war soon, and the more people there are aligned with me, the better.”

“War?  I don’t want anything to do with any ‘war,’ and I don’t care what kind it is!”

“And if the war is being waged against the man who killed your father?”

Gary’s mouth fell open, his eyes widened, and his hands grew clammy.  Fear and anger and suspicion raced together in his head.

“What do you know about my father’s killer?” His voice went hoarse.

“A great deal more than you, I expect,” said the other calmly, “Especially considering you’ve been unsuccessful in your attempts to discover the murderer’s identity.”

Rage pumped through the self-made rogue.  Before he could stop himself, he seized the collar of the stranger’s cowl and shook him furiously.

“Who is it?   _WHO?!  Tell me!!_ ”

“Temper, _te-mper_ ,” the man in white spoke in a sing-song voice, pushing Gary’s hands off him with ease, “You won’t learn anything acting like that.  But if you consider possibly extending your limits of operation—“

“Then I’ll come looking for you.” Gary growled.

“You’re welcome to _try_ , Mister Myers, but chances are more likely that _I’ll_ find _you_.”

_Oh geez,_ Gary’s anger subsided into exasperation at that, _He’s one of THOSE turkeys._

“I’ll bet,” he muttered, but as the man seemed ready to leave, another thought occurred to Gary, “Are you making the same offer to the Pendragons?”

His mysterious visitor had been mid-step when he asked, and paused somewhat thoughtfully before giving him a questioning look.

“Okay, well…” Gary went on, trying to amend what he had said, “I don’t think Lance Pendragon’s going to be too interested, but his sister might be willing to partner up with you on this.  Their father and my father were killed by the same person or whoever.  At least, that’s what we think.  My father was working for Artemis Pendragon when they both died, and they died the same night.  So maybe Lance and his sister would be interested in hearing what you’ve got to say.”

The man in white smiled.  “I’ll bear that in mind.  Now, if you don’t have any more questions…?”

“Just one, and give me a straight answer this time.  Who are you?”

The man’s smile turned frigid and the night around them suddenly seemed forbidding.

“For the time being, Mister Myers, you may call me Anarky.”


	2. There Are Always Secrets...

Guen had no grievances about Yin’s sudden insistence on accompanying her almost everywhere.  Well, in a manner of speaking, she wasn’t necessarily _allowed_ to have any; she had, after all, broken out of her tracking anklet and evaded police custody and her handler for forty-eight hours.  It was really due only to luck and Batman’s word that she was getting off so lightly, and that was taking into account the lie by omission: Batman had said nothing concerning her venture to Star City, Green Arrow had covered things up on his end, and the winged woman wasn’t eager to tell the furious detective herself.  Really, it could have been worse.

But Wraith certainly disagreed, and took small opportunities here and there to complain about Ellen shadowing her, blatantly ignoring whenever it was brought up that the entire mess was _her_ fault to begin with.

“What, are you going to follow me into the bathroom too?” she asked in a sardonic tone, glaring as the other woman sat down at the table across her.

“If needs be.” Yin answered, matter-of-fact and calm.  The criminal consultant gave a snort and an impatient rustle of her huge gray wings, turning her attention back to the bowl of cereal she had finished making.  She was three bites in and barely relaxed when the detective spoke up again.

“So where did you go?” She asked.  “What was so important you couldn’t bother to bring it up with GCPD _first_?”

It certainly wasn’t the first time Yin had asked that question, and she seemed determined to catch Wraith off-guard, as though hoping she could startle her into giving a straight answer.  She never seemed to take into account that Wraith still had some mandatory psych sessions at Arkham—as per the requirements of her probation and position as a criminal consultant—and Chief Psychiatrist Professor Strange was more adept at subtly doing just that.  So Wraith took several more bites of the cereal, savoring the peanut buttery flavor, just to drag things out and push Yin’s buttons.

“What was so important that you risked putting your legal freedom on the line?”

_That_ was new.

“Wait, what?” Wraith said, startled to the point she fumbled her spoon and sent the next bite of cereal splashing back into the bowl.  Yin’s eyebrows contracted sharply as her red lips thinned in a frown.  Trying to look her in the eye was like having a staring contest with a cat.  A very grumpy cat, with a badge, a gun, and a mean high-kick.

“You heard me,” Yin answered, surprisingly patient as her glare eased up a little, “It’s the same question I’ve been asking you since the other night.  You’ll have to be honest with me sooner or later.”

“I know, and I will,” Wraith replied, feeling her patience being stretched a bit, “Guen promised she’d make sure you know.  But you aren’t getting the answer right now.”

Yin opened her mouth as though to protest, but she never got the chance to say anything, as Guen’s phone chose that moment to ring.  The words “unknown number” flashed across the screen, but her phone had been… “Alternatively programmed” by someone egotistical enough he had given himself his own ringtone that played no matter what number he called Guen from.

“And speaking of giving people answers…” she groaned as Yin snatched up the phone first.  The detective raised a quizzical eyebrow at its LED display and gave Wraith a questioning look, to which the winged thief shrugged and muttered “Go for it.”

“Guen Pendragon’s phone.  This is Detective Ellen Yin answering.”  She sounded suspicious as she accepted the call, and really, she was right to.  In a short moment, Wraith could hear the voice on the other end, thanks to her increased raptor senses.

“Detective.” Said a silky, measured voice.  “Well, this _is_ a surprise.  I had not been expecting to encounter you again so soon.”

“ _Riddler_.” She snarled, her eyes narrowing sharply again, giving Wraith a mild jolt of surprise.  “Surely you _know_ Miss Pendragon is working as a criminal consultant for the GCPD and her calls are being monitored?”

“I would _hardly_ consider answering her phone for her to be just ‘monitoring’ her calls.” Riddler answered smoothly.  “That doesn’t sound like any inch of freedom whatsoever.  Not that I should expect any less from _Gotham’s finest_.”

“Hmm.  Explain something to me, Riddler,” Yin said, shooting a quizzical look at Wraith, who groaned and laid her head on the surface of the table, “If you’re so keen to talk to Miss Pendragon, why is she avoiding you?”

There was a notable pause before he answered.

“Clearly because she wishes to keep our relationship free of police interference.” He said in a rather angry tone.  “Not that I blame her.  I was _hoping_ to ask her out to lunch, but considering there’s no trust present—“

“Forgive me if I don’t believe for a moment that you wouldn’t entice Miss Pendragon,” Yin said, tossing Wraith an accusatory look this time, “Back into her old habits.”

“As I said, no trust.” It was evident from the Riddler’s tone he was sneering.  “How is my lovely friend supposed to ever prove herself to the Gotham P.D. if you don’t allow her an inch or two on her leash?”

The detective fell silent, appearing to ponder this for a moment.  Wraith’s heart leapt in spite of herself.  No _way_!  Was Ed actually going to make Yin let up on her?  She sucked in a breath as she watched the emotions warring on the other woman’s face, until Ellen finally moved the phone away from her ear and covered it with her free hand.

“ _Don’t_ make me regret this, Wraith.”

*****

It was with a certain measure of irony that the winged woman reflected on those words as she stood at a bus stop, waiting for her ride to pick her up.  Unsurprisingly, a green van emblazoned with a large black question mark on its side came pelting up the road, screeching to a halt when it neared her.  She shifted her wings uncomfortably as the side door slid open.

_I just hope that I don’t make me regret this._  She thought to herself.

_Give me the reins._  Guen’s voice abruptly sounded in her thoughts.  It startled her more than the van, and she moved with some apprehension, to give herself time to speak between her two personalities.

_Guen, you sure about that?  You haven’t been, well, normal around Edward since…since you-know-what._  Wraith remarked.

_I’m sure._ Guen returned calmly, her mental voice carrying a note of unexpected confidence.  Wraith relaxed and retreated in upon herself, and the young woman gave an unsteady lurch forward as Guen regained control over her own mind once again.  The henchmen in the van gave her curious stares, which she waved off impatiently.

“Relax, relax, I’m fine,” Guen huffed, speaking in her usual rapid manner, “But any one of you touches me, your hands are going to be shoved into a blender, good intentions or not.”

The two that had been holding out their hands to help her into the van quickly retreated, pulling their arms back and keeping their fingers out of sight.

_Nice one._ Wraith chuckled at the back of her thoughts, sounding duly impressed.  Guen had to hold back a chuckle of her own as she stepped into the cramped vehicle, the top of the frame scraping her wings uncomfortably.  She drew them around herself even more tightly than usual but there was still very little space in the van regardless, and for one of the first times in her life, Guenhivyre Pendragon felt slightly claustrophobic.

_Professor Crane would never let me hear the end of it,_ she thought wryly as the van took off.  Her thoughts immediately jumped from the doctor of fear to her friends, the other “rookie” rogues with whom she had bonded so strongly.  Ink, Banshee, Magpie, Trick Deck, Erin Knightly, Rook… Guen had barely seen them since Batman had vouched for her two months ago and she had been put on probation.  She had seen Two-Face, Ramsey, Gary Myers and Cassandra Derricks even less.

_I miss my freaky little family of misfits._ She thought, her two personalities in sync for a brief moment.  Staying with her mother and her half-brother Logann was nice, certainly; Guen had been ripped away from her home before she had truly formed a memorable relationship of any kind with her mother, and she felt—and Logann agreed—that now she could make up for all the lost time that had been stolen from them.  But it wasn’t quite the same.

She became lost in thought, wondering what they were all up to now, until the van finally arrived somewhere on the outskirts of the city and came to a stop.

“We’re here, Miss.” One of the cybergoth henchmen announced, and the van door slid open.  Taking a deep breath, Guen crouched low and clambered out, her heartbeat speeding up.  They were parked outside what appeared to be an abandoned maze comprised of eight-foot-high stone walls and a top layer of barbed wire.  Trust Edward Nygma to set up home base in the middle of what appeared to be a military-style death maze!  She was wondering if they had to run all the way through it when arriving, when one of the cybergoths retrieved what appeared to be a television remote and held it up for her to see.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“Boss wants you to see, so you know how to get in next time.” Came the reply, and she watched as he punched in the numbers 4-8-3-6 and the power button, aiming at a spot on the side of the maze wall.  As the segment of wall began to slide down with a grating, rumbling sound, Wraith registered mild surprise in the back of Guen’s mind.

_What is it?_ She asked her other personality as the man led her through the lowering walls on a hidden path.

_That set of numbers,_ Wraith responded, _if that were a sequence in a cell phone number or text message, it would spell out ‘Guen.’_

The thought gave her a small jolt and she nearly stumbled over one of the lower walls.  Her cheeks flooded with the heat of a blush and a tiny shiver of delight ran through her wings.

_I’m one of his passwords?_

“Through here, miss.” Another cybergoth indicated what appeared to be… _elevator_ doors set into a thicker wall.  One of them flicked a hidden switch and the doors slid open, indeed revealing a grated elevator lift beyond.  Guen looked at it for a moment, mildly surprised she had been on the mark with her assumption, and then a thought occurred to her.

“What’s its weight capacity?”

The henchmen all paused, looking confused.

“Most of us can all fit in there without a problem.” One of them offered helpfully.

“You all just climb in there, squished together like a bunch of sardines?” She asked.

“Well, yeah…” another admitted, and they started to exchange confused looks.

“How nice for you,” Guen muttered, “Look, I want some space, and I wouldn’t _squash_ myself in there anyway.  My bone and muscle structure is denser than any of yours, and my wings take up a lot of space.  I want to go down the lift by myself.”

They all exchanged wary looks and she sighed, folding her arms resolutely.  Were they really going to have to do this dance?  She was uncomfortable enough already.  Thankfully, they eventually nodded consent, probably torn between duty and respect, if she had a guess.  She flashed a small, sympathetic smile as she stepped into the lift, which wobbled slightly with her first step or so.  She jabbed the ‘down’ button a couple of times, and the grated doors slid shut.

“See you down there.” she said with a mild wave as the henchmen and maze walls clattered out of sight.  The lift descended with a good deal of rattling and clanging, growing dark as a chill air rustled her feathers.  Shivering, Guen hugged her arms.  The cold, the dark, and the lack of a significant amount of elbow room was pressing in upon her, threatening to dredge up a recent memory she spent most of her time suppressing.  She pulled her wings around her like a shield, trying to reach for Wraith’s thoughts.  Her other personality responded immediately.

_Are you sure you don’t want me to handle this?_ Wraith asked, clearly concerned.

_No, I’m… I’ll be fine,_ Guen responded with a bit of a sigh, _I just wanted to know you’re still here.  That you have my back._

_Pendragon, it’ll take more than saying ‘please’ to get rid of ME._

A grim smile crossed Guen’s face at the thought, and a shaft of yellow-gray light appeared at her feet, before the lift was exposed and she blinked in the sudden brilliance.  It appeared to be some sort of underground warehouse, and there were dozens of people milling about, performing different tasks, all of them dressed like the henchmen above.  Guen sucked in a breath; she had heard the Riddler ran some sort of secret network syndicate of his own, but she hadn’t had a _clue_ how vast Eddie’s operation really was.  She tried for a brief second to count the individuals, but then gave it up as a lost cause.  If she really wanted to know, she was certain she could ask Ed how many people were in his employ.

Finally the lift slowed its descent before rattling into place, the gated doors sliding open.

“Dude, _Guen!_ ” An excited yell sounded throughout the warehouse.  She knew that voice!  She glanced around for a moment before he came bounding into view, skidding to a halt a few feet from her, his black-and-white hair flying about wildly.  She couldn’t stop a grin from working its way onto her face as she took in the young man’s monochromatic chessboard color scheme, happy to see a familiar face again.

“Rook!  It’s been a while.” She chuckled.

“A while?  A _while?!_  It’s been freaking forever!” he responded, getting a little over-the-top dramatic.  “Mental air-hug.”

He mimed hugging someone, staring at her with large, gray puppy-eyes and a quivering lip that didn’t quite hide his sharp canine teeth.  Guen offered him a weak smile and nodded, silently grateful Rook had respectfully remembered to keep his distance and not touch her.

“Ed said you would be coming here!  I missed you, hot stuff.  Mind you, your brother misses you too.  He still wants you to meet his girl.”

“And I _will_ ,” Guen said reassuringly, “I’ve already spoken with Jeanette over the phone.  She sounds pretty nice, and if she makes Lance happy, kudos.  I’m just not quite ready to see them yet.”

Rook eyed her suspiciously as she stepped out of the elevator, rubbing his chin in thought.

“I’m not sure I want to know what he said to put you off, but I’m here if you need a go-between.  Anyway, does the G.C.P.D. know you’re here?” He asked.  “Thought you took up the whole criminal consultant gig?”

“I did, and they do.” She answered, hunching her shoulders and shoving her fists into her pockets.  “Just please don’t advertise it, okay Rook?”

“I won’t if you don’t sell us out.” He snapped, abruptly suspicious.

“That hurts.” She said quietly, extending her wings around her like a barrier, blocking most of Rook from her vision.  “You’re my friend.  And Ed…”

“Sorry,” Rook sighed, “Didn’t mean to get so hostile, Guen.  I just… Old habits die hard.  And I knew you’d never betray the boss.”

She gave an involuntary little jerk at that, remembering the last thing Lance had said to her concerning Riddler, the thing that made Guen unable to face her brother.

_“How do you know Nygma is your Lancelot and not your Arthur?”_

The words had rattled her to her core, and she had avoided seeing Lance and his fiancée in person for fear Lance would bring it up again.  The last thing she wanted from anyone, much less one of her elder brothers, was thoughts that would put doubt into her mind.

“Come on,” Rook said, indicating she should follow him, “I’ll take you right to him.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, following hesitantly a few steps behind him, “Why is it I never knew of this place?  Mags never told me, you didn’t… Eddie never mentioned it.  I always thought that one hideout near the Narrows with all the muscle-bound idiots on guard duty was the total hideout and extension of Ed’s syndicate.”

“Cook never knew because she was always off doing her own thing more than half the time.”  Rook answered.  “I’ve always known because I was kinda here back when Nygma first built this place.”

He continued to speak, but Guen stopped listening to him in short order.  As they were making their way through contraptions, tables, and boards displaying maps and blueprints, the winged rogue was noticing something that was rapidly making her uncomfortable.  Most of the people here working on what were clearly the Riddler’s plans…were women.  They moved by most of the women too quickly for her to really observe them in detail, but they were all attractive women nonetheless.

_What’s going on here?_ Guen wondered to herself uneasily.   _Why are all of these people women?_

_I don’t know, Pendragon,_ Wraith’s thought patterns broke into her own, abruptly aggressive, _But I don’t like it._

Not that Guen could blame her other personality.  She was starting to get more and more uncomfortable by the second.  Most of the women paid no heed to her or Rook, but there were several others that looked up as the two passed, and many of them would quickly look away with guilty, red-faced expressions the second they saw Guen’s face.  She started to frown and attempted to keep her gaze glued to Rook’s back.

_And I’m liking it less and less,_ Wraith gave a mental growl.

“Oh, I forgot,” Rook said, stopping outside the door to a room with what appeared to be a two-way mirror serving in place of a window to the rest of the place, “There’s one thing I need to warn you about.”

“Oh, just one thing?” Guen scoffed, though her remark went unnoticed by the vampire gunman.

“The kids.  They, uh—“

“Kids?” She echoed in a hollow voice, trying very hard to fight the immediate suspicion that popped into her mind.  “Kids?  What kids?”

Rook’s face fell.  “He never told you?” he said.

“No,” she said in a panicky voice, adrenaline threatening to start pumping through her bloodstream, “Tell me about what?”

“His apprentices.” Rook clarified.  “The two kids he’s training.”

Relief instantly washed over her.  Thank God!  So it wasn’t as bad as she had started to imagine.  It must have shown because more than one person turned to glance in their direction, and more than one looked aghast at the exchange.  Some gangly, freckled redhead in particular seemed annoyed, and Guen forced her gaze ahead again, shaking just a little from the momentary panic.

“I didn’t know he had trainees!” she said, tilting her head in what she hoped looked like mild surprise, letting out a trembling laugh of relief. “When did that happen?”

“Well, the little sandy-brunette prick was a newer addition,” Rook muttered. “He was running around Jump City for a month or so, wearing Riddly’s question-mark-and-green sort of get-up when we picked him up.  Figured it was probably better to have him under the wing than running around on his own.” He paused, giving Guen and her wings a glance, and added awkwardly, “Er, sorry.  No offense.”

“None taken,” she answered swiftly, her eyes on the door, “What about the other kid?  You said there were two.”

“Yeah, er..” he ducked his head a little, “Actually, she’s been around for a long time, Guen. Probably as long as you, if not longer.”

That got her attention.  She looked at Rook, her green eyes going wide.  Was he being _serious_?

“You mean… longer than Wraith, right?” she asked warily.

“No, I mean longer than you.” Rook answered.  “Don’t freak too much about it, though.  I think you’ll like Codi.  You two have a lot more in common than you think.”

Guen said nothing.  Her throat was constricting too tightly to speak anyway, and even if it hadn’t been, she wasn’t sure what she _could_ say.  A strange, complex tangle of feelings was welling up in her at that moment, and only Wraith’s increasing temper made any sense among the maelstrom.

“Boss?” Rook said, allowing his voice to precede them as he opened the door.  “She’s here.”

Her feet moved automatically to follow him into the room, and her eyes immediately sought out all three of the people already present.  Pouting in a corner as he lounged against a desk was a teenage boy decked in green and wearing a domino mask, a black-and-orange question mark splashed over his uniform.  He raised a puzzled eyebrow at her and frowned, but Guen’s eyes had already jumped to the other teenager.  She looked rather young, but there was something in her green eyes that was aged and haunted.  Her face was pale and unmarred, save for a single crescent scar running from her chin to her cheek.  Her long, fine hair was black and dyed purple at the tips, and the only green among her black clothing came in the form of a shirt and an embroidered question mark on the shoulder of her jacket sleeve.  This then, had to be Codi.  She stared at Guen with a politely confused expression that the winged woman returned.

“Guen?” said a soft, apprehensive voice, and her eyes moved to the speaker with warm familiarity.  There he was, with his disheveled dark hair still hanging wispily in his face.  He pulled off his green domino mask, revealing light blue eyes that danced with overjoyed disbelief at the sight of her there.

“Eddie.” She murmured softly.  He strode toward her, closing the distance between them, but not before she extended her wings again to prevent him from touching her.  He had thrown open his arms as though to pull her into an embrace, but at that, he let them drop limply to his sides as his face fell.  The sight hurt her, as much as it had when she had shied away from his touch at Lance’s home months ago.  Looking away, she murmured a soft apology.

“Don’t be.” Edward replied swiftly, regaining some of his usual manner.  “I am just glad you came here.”

She looked up at him, smiling sadly for a brief moment before turning an inquisitive gaze to the kids.  He followed her gaze before smiling with pride at the two teens, Codi in particular, Guen noticed.

“Brothers and sisters have I none, but that man’s father is my father’s son.” He said slowly, moving to stand between them.  Guen frowned as she shifted her wings again.

“Ed, _please_ speak concisely.” 

“But Guen—“

“No ‘buts’ Eddie, please…” she cut him off, trying to keep her voice as gentle as she possibly could, “Why didn’t you tell me about them?”

With a slightly guilty expression, he replied, “Can a mind process so much pain and information at once without a breaking point?”

“My mind reached that breaking point ages ago.” She replied swiftly.  “Hit it so hard it split in two.  But Ed, even without everything I’ve been recently getting treatment for, I would have hoped you would have told me about a couple of understudies.”

“I meant to, Guen, believe me.  I just… I wasn’t sure when the right time—“

“Please don’t make excuses.” She sighed.  “I’m not sure I can handle that right now.”

His face flushed and he fell silent, looking away.  Guen wished she could hug him, but held back; Wraith gave her the strong impression doing so would make this okay in the Riddler’s mind, and that meant the reprimand wouldn’t stick or sink in.  Instead, she glanced between the teens, watching the boy leaning lazily against the desk edge with a too-interested expression and the girl, Codi, where she perched like a crouching gargoyle in her chair as her guarded gaze shifted between her mentor and the winged woman.

“Guen Pendragon,” Guen said by way of curt introduction, “Though my guess is you probably already knew that.  But I don’t know _your_ names.”

“ _Someone’s_ bitter.” The boy remarked with a scoff.

A muscle twitched in Guen’s upper jaw as she forced a strained smile and asked between gritted teeth, “What did you say your name was, _honey_?”

“I didn’t,” the boy replied nastily, but at a look from the Riddler, he quickly amended with a bit of a sulk, “It’s Kwiz Kid.”

“If I had _wanted_ just your alias,” Guen answered in steely tones, crossing her arms, “Then I’d let Wraith introduce herself, too.  Unfortunately, she’s in a bit of an irritable mood, so I’m afraid that wouldn’t be wise.  I _asked_ for your _name_.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“Aaron,” he blurted out uncertainly, “My name is Aaron.  Calm _down_.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Guen said encouragingly, mustering up a half-smile, “Once we get your manners polished up, you _might_ be adorable.”

The girl in her chair gave a soft, appreciative snicker, drawing Guen’s attention to her.  She stopped laughing immediately, turning her orb-like eyes up at the older woman as though trying to decide whether or not to trust her.

“My name’s Codi,” she said quietly, “But I prefer Mystery.”

This time, a genuine smile made its way onto Guen’s face.  In spite of her misgivings about Edward keeping secrets, she found she liked this girl already, nor was she alone in that.

“Wraith,” her other personality spoke up abruptly in her low, growling sort of voice, “I like you.  At least you’re not some smart-ass disrespecting your elders because you’ve got a spandex-wedgie.”

This time it was Rook who snickered off to the side while Codi tossed a smug smile in Aaron’s direction.  Edward merely looked shocked as his understudy turned scarlet.

“HEY!” the kid half-shrieked, taking a few steps forward, “Listen here, _lady_ —“

She snapped out a wing, the tips of her feathers cuffing him on the cheek, and he stumbled back, rubbing his jaw.

“Wrong.” Wraith yawned.  “Guen’s the lady, _I’m_ the harpy.  And watch it with the hair-trigger temper, kid.  I respect anyone with a fuse as short as mine, but if you aren’t careful, it may cost you a hand one day.”

“Wraith!” Edward hissed, stepping close to her and angling himself so as to put Aaron out of her immediate line of sight.  “Please!  I would appreciate it if you don’t threaten or damage the boy before he’s been properly trained up.”

“I wasn’t threatening,” she answered genially, “I was just increasing his scope of awareness, that’s all.”

The Riddler groaned, rubbing his temples with a sigh and shaking his head.

“Come on,” he said, waving a hand for her to follow, “We need to have our lunch, you and I.  I promised you that.”

“Fine, but we’re getting Chinese.” Wraith declared loftily as she folded her wings, a bit of a spring to her step again.  “You and Guen haven’t had a Chinese night in _months_ , and I know for a fact she misses it.”

They left the room, Riddler tossing a command over his shoulders for the two teens to behave and not burn the place down or kill each other before he got back, and Rook followed, shutting the door behind them.  Kwiz Kid released a breath the second they were out of sight, clutching the edge of the desk for support.

“Oh, thank everything sacred!” He groaned.  “She’s a psycho!”

“I like her.” Mystery offered up casually, pulling out a smartphone from her jacket and resuming a game of solitaire.  “So far, anyway.”

“You _would_.” He snapped, glowering at her.

“Hey, I’m not stupid enough to have spandex as _my_ uniform, _Aaron_.”

*****

Ellen Yin drummed her fingers on the counter as she watched her phone, willing it to ring any second now.  She had almost panicked when the audio feed had gone staticky, but something held her back.  She wasn’t a woman to follow a random hunch, but she had a gut feeling that she needed to wait.

Thankfully that had worked out in her favor.  Before too much time had passed, the audio had abruptly cleared and the feed was as strong as the tracker signal.  Perhaps Batman had been right about Miss Pendragon; perhaps they _should_ trust her and her choice to try to reform.

“So why an underground lair, Eddie?” Guen’s voice said through the transmitter.  “At risk of sounding like some stereotypical whiny, clingy girlfriend, it makes you significantly harder to get ahold of.  Plus, there’s the cliché factor.”

A-ha!  So _that_ was why the signal had almost been lost.

“Well now, Miss Pendragon,” she chuckled, mostly to herself, “I guess maybe you _are_ trying to cooperate with me after all.”

“People misjudge others all the time.”

The detective’s heart almost skipped a beat, and she spun out of the barstool, drawing her gun on the figure standing in the doorway.

A tall, non-descript humanoid was watching her, head and face obscured by a black hat and a long, beaked mask.  Billowing black robes gave no hint as to the person’s gender, and they raised black-gloved hands in a show of non-confrontation.

“Door was unlocked.”

“Remind me to pay better attention next time.” Ellen snorted, lowering her gun only a fraction.  While she had never seen this individual in person before, she knew the description of the mysterious ‘Plague Doctor’ well enough she had some idea of what she was facing.  “Where’s that cane they say you walk with?”

“Hallway,” was the brief response.  She frowned.  The mentions that the Plague Doctor was a man of few words were evidently true.  He had mysteriously appeared in Gotham roughly a month ago, on Detective Bullock’s watch, and little had been learned about him since.  He was however, dangerous, if the reports since were completely accurate.  She wasn’t about to completely lower her gun.

“I could have shot you.” She said coolly.

He nodded once.

“I could have you arrested.”

He gave the barest of shrugs.

“And I take it you aren’t concerned?”

There was a slow shake of the masked head, and then a black-gloved hand extended a folded piece of paper to her.  Furrowing her brow in suspicion, she took slow strides forward, keeping her gun fixed on the Plague Doctor all the while.  Her dark eyes never left him as she snatched the paper before swiftly stepping back, and he never moved, bird-mask as expressionless as ever. She lowered the gun a little more as she glanced down at the paper.

“And what is this supposed to be?” she demanded.  When no verbal response was offered, she glanced up at the Plague Doctor again to see a shushing gesture being made, followed by the miming of unfolding something.  She gave him a squinting glare of irritation, then worked on unfolding the paper one-handed.

The name of her criminal-consultant charge greeted her at the top of the paper in slanting handwriting.  Yin’s eyes went huge.

“What—“ but she never finished her question.  Looking up again showed the figure in the mask and robes had vanished.  Nerves on edge, the detective rushed to the door, darting into the hallway beyond and looking to either end of the hall with her gun drawn again.  But there was no sign of the silent, mysterious Plague Doctor.  Grumbling in frustration, Yin holstered the gun with some reluctance and turned her attention to the paper in her hand.  As her eyes scanned each line, shock overcame her.

For if what the Plague Doctor had written was true… now she knew where her charge had really gotten to during those forty-eight lost hours.  And what was more, now she knew _why_.


	3. Vanishing Act

Some people were tactful about how to drop a proverbial bomb in the middle of a conversation.  They knew how to wait for the right opening, the best way to word the matter, and who to primarily address in order to best cushion the impact of the news.  And then there were some people who just had a tendency to bluntly release a grenade after pulling the pin, regardless of what might occur on impact.  The sharp-shooting, trigger-happy young woman known as “Banshee” fell among the latter category.

She was visiting her close friends, all of them hanging out in the employee break room at the Iceberg Lounge—having a friend who was the bartender there _and_ Cobblepot’s main squeeze _rocked_ —and they were congratulating said friend on her pregnancy.  It was a little late, considering May was roughly six months along and had hidden it well up until that point, much to the annoyance of the other girls.  She had also insisted that she didn’t want even a facsimile of a baby shower unless they were all there—and their little ring of friends was at present one member short—but Erin Knightly had insisted on having an impromptu little “friend party” at the Lounge for May during its closed hours, and the others had quite readily agreed.

Vanessa was trying to convince May for the umpteenth time to teach them how to mix up their own vodkashakes, and Banshee was about to chime in her support, when her phone buzzed in her pocket.  Surprised, she pulled it out immediately, expecting to find a text from Incubus.  They had officially declared last month that they were going steady, something that still had her on Cloud Nine, and they had started texting one another almost every day.  Oddly enough however, the text turned out not to be from Logann, but from his sister.

“Guys, I just got a text from Guen.” She blurted out.  The others all looked up in surprise for a moment, waiting for her to continue.  She glanced around, meeting all their eyes before opening the message and adding after a moment, “She’s out on a lunch date with Riddler.”

This was met with scattered cooing before the girls mostly went back to what they’d been doing before, and Akira secretly felt relieved.  Guen had been like a sister to her since they’d first met, and the poor woman had gone through a lot in roughly the last year.  It was about high time she had the chance to relax and go on a date, and Akira was happy for her.  Feeling a bit nosy as she always did when it came to her friends’ love lives, she texted Guen back.

_[ gurl u betta gv deetz l8er!!!1 ]_

She pressed the ‘send’ key with a bit of a snicker, and put the matter out of her mind for the most part as she continued to hang out with the rest of the girls.  But as luck or fate would have it, little more than half an hour passed before her phone buzzed again.  Even more surprised than before, she opened the second text message excitedly as Erin and Ink discussed making baby clothes for May.

“Akira?” Someone said her name, trying to get her attention.  But her eyes finished scanning the text and the blood drained from her face before she responded.

“Oh, crap.” She muttered.  “Uh, girls?  Guen needs to talk to us.”

There was a collective pause.

“What, now?”

“No,” she answered, “She wants us all to meet up in front of some sub place at the mall before six for dinner or something.  And uh, I’m guessing her lunch date with Eddie didn’t go well, because she ain’t givin’ us an option.”

*****

Texting anyone was risky, what with Yin the essential guard dog, but Guen was too excited to over-worry about the consequences.  She waited until they had been seated and Eddie was placing their drink order to fire off a text to Akira.  Her interaction with the girls had been so limited, but lunch with Edward was a good sign, and her friends would want to know.

“You can’t necessarily hide your wings any more, can you?”

She slowly lowered her phone to the surface of the table, unsure how to respond.  Opening a conversation with _that_ wasn’t what she had expected from Eddie, even though they had had to have a word with the manager concerning the matter.

“Not really,” she replied quietly, “I think they’ve stopped growing, but I can’t just tuck them in a hoodie or a jacket any more.”

Glancing up, she met those familiar blue eyes, staring at her in a mix of worry and affection, and her cheeks flushed in response.

“Thank goodness for spacious high-rise tables, then.  At least we can still eat out, sans potential booth-cuddling.” He mumbled with a smile.  She sucked in a breath, leaning a little further back in the high-rise chair.  This was it, the topic she had wanted to avoid with him.

“We’re probably going to have to be sans _any_ kind of cuddling for a while, Eddie. Or…well, anything else, really.  I’m sorry.” She murmured, shifting her wings and pulling them a bit closer to her arms, trying to shield herself again.  For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of annoyance flicker across his face, but her paranoia and worry over how he might react must have been getting to her, because he smiled a bit sadly.

“It’s alright.” He answered, reaching for her hand.

_Hands like talons, grasping for her wrist._

_Blood, slick as oil, and just as damning when spilled._

_Eyes burning with hate._

_Blood and hate, blood and hate and hate and blood and blood and hate…_

Sucking in a breath, she pulled her hand away quickly, casting her gaze to the floor, where she studied the patterns in the tiles to distract herself.

“S-sorry, but not even that, Ed… I just… can’t.”

There was a pause, then he leaned back in his chair, probably pouting, Guen figured.

“Sorry.” She mumbled again.  “I just… Flashbacks.”

“I could still kill that bastard for you, you know.” Edward remarked in a would-be calm voice.

“Eddie, no.” She said sharply.  “Killing him wouldn’t solve anything.  Besides, I don’t want you to sink to that level.”

“I didn’t say I’m going to,” he replied quietly, drumming his fingertips on the surface of the table, “Just that I would do it for you.”

She didn’t know what to say in response to that.  She was grateful, yes, but something about the sincerity of what Eddie was saying scared her.  Her thoughts were threatening to dissolve into maelstrom panic, and Wraith was offering up no advice whatsoever.  She had to find a new topic of conversation to anchor herself on to.

Her mind jumped to Kwiz Kid and Mystery.

“When did you find sidekicks, anyway?” She murmured.  “Rook said Mystery’s been around for a while, and that Kwiz is a new addition.”

“That’s more or less accurate.” He replied.

“I didn’t think you would ever take on understudies.”

“Gotham _needs_ a Riddler,” he said, his voice low, and when she looked up at him, fevered excitement shone in his blue eyes, “And unfortunately, wonderful though I am, I am still lamentably mortal.  Sooner or later, I won’t be able to continue.  But the mantle can be passed down.”

Wordlessly she nodded.  It was true enough, though she couldn’t see why it was so important to start training an understudy immediately, let alone two of them.  Eddie was still young; surely he wasn’t expecting to “retire” from his Riddler persona this early, was he?

_Doubt it,_ Wraith gave an abrupt mental snort, _His ego probably wouldn’t allow it.  Besides, he probably enjoys having a couple of impressionable teeny-bops around to awe and shower him with admiration._

 _You didn’t think Mystery was a teeny-bop._ Guen argued weakly, unable to contest the rest of her other personality’s thought.

_Of course I don’t, and I know you don’t either,_ Wraith answered, calming down marginally at the thought of the younger girl, _But my point stands regardless._

Unbidden, the thought of all those other women in the hideout came to her mind, and even as she felt a cold gloominess settle over her, she had to restrain a growl that was purely Wraith starting to get angry again.

“Does that mean the entire syndicate would get passed down as well?” She blurted out.  “All that knowledge, all the equipment, all of your… assistants?”

His mouth fell open, confusion and suspicion warring behind his eyes, but he was prevented from responding by the timely arrival of a server, who was awaiting their order with a wide smile.  They tonelessly gave their input, one after the other, and within moments the server spun away, still with the same broad smile.  Edward looked up at her again.

“Is there something bothering you, Guen?” He asked suspiciously.

“No,” the lie tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it, “Sorry, Ed.  I just… have a lot on my mind lately.”

“I know, Guen.  I’m sorry you’re so stressed,” he said tenderly, and she stared down at her hands in her lap, feeling rather guilty.

He _didn’t_ know.  He didn’t have a clue.  And heaven help her, she had no desire to tell him everything.  Not yet.

Silently, she pulled out her phone to text Banshee again as Edward started rambling again, the sound of his voice numbing her thoughts.  What she needed right now were the girls, someone who would _listen_.

*****

“Explain something to me, real quick,” Vanessa huffed, “Why in the biscuits are we meeting up with Guen in the middle of the bloody _mall_?”

Akira turned and raised an eyebrow at her best friend.  “Biscuits?” She echoed in mild bafflement.  “That’s a new one.”

The young English thief managed to keep her expression in place, but a faint blush colored her cheeks.  “Blame Peter,” she muttered.

“Peter?” Erin asked politely, offering up an encouraging smile.

“She means Ragdoll,” May clarified.  “And if I had to make a guess, I would say we’re meeting up here because Guen wants to hide in plain sight.”

“Yeah, there’s supposed to be a costume party or something going on at the Geek City shop!” Ink piped up happily, smiling under her scarf and hood.  It came as no surprise to any of them that Ink sounded eager to check out said costume party.

“That explains it a bit,” Nessa conceded the point as they marched to the food court, her eyes easily picking out their friend in the crowd.  “There’s our girl!”

Several people in costumes were milling around, some of them _with_ costume wings, but sitting alone at one large table was a woman with huge gray wings folded against her back.  She was staring off at nothing as she poked absentmindedly at a plate of chili-cheese fries, oblivious to the envious glares that many of the cosplayers were throwing her wings.  But as the five friends approached, she looked up and smiled, waving feebly.

“Hey, girls.” She murmured, and Erin and Akira all but tackled her before she could stand up.

“Guen!” Erin almost shrieked as Akira yelled, “We missed you!”

“Missed you, too.” She said quietly, before prying herself free and hugging all the girls one by one.  “Thanks for coming here on such short notice.”

“It sounded a bit urgent.” May remarked, raising an eyebrow.  “What happened on your date with Eddie?”

“It wasn’t just the date,” Guen shook her head as they all settled into chairs, “This is the first time I’ve seen him since the… well, since Batman took me to the G.C.P.D.  And it honestly feels like I’ve been displaced into some weird parallel dimension, like all the rules and everything I thought I knew about him just _changed_.”

“What, you mean he’s _not_ an arrogant tosspot anymore?” Nessa suggested, earning her a light smack on the shoulder from May and an under-the-table high-five from Akira.  Guen inhaled deeply, trying to ignore it, and Erin and Ink gave her encouraging nods to continue.

“Did any of you know how expansive his syndicate is?  Or that it’s primarily compromised of women who look like they were on sale for buy-two-get-one-free at Supermodels-R-Us?” She asked, her voice brittle with anger.  She watched the looks of shock and alarm grow on her friends’ faces, felt a mild satisfaction at the sight, and smiled bitterly before she continued.  “What about his underground base?  That one’s new, as far as I know.  And the sidekicks, those are new to me too.”

“Wait-wait-wait!” Akira waved her hands for a second.  “Did you say he’s got _sidekicks_?”

Guen nodded, exhaling sharply as she brushed strands of hair out of her face.  “Two of them.  They go by Mystery and Kwiz Kid.  Going by what Rook’s told me, Kwiz is a newer addition; Ed picked him up out of Jump City a month ago or something.  Mystery though, she’s been around for at least a year, maybe more.”  She explained, keeping her gaze on the lukewarm fries she was steadily mashing to a pulp.

“He never even told _me_ about a sidekick!” Nessa sounded absolutely scandalized.  “And he _adores_ you!  Why did he keep that a secret?”

_Why, indeed._ Guen thought, fiddling with the plastic fork and not looking up at them.   _I would really love to know the answer to that question._

“I’m sure he had his reasons.” Ink said, in a tone that urged everyone to be reasonable and open-minded.  “Eddie usually has reasons; sometimes he’s just not the best at explaining them.”

Part of Guen wanted to agree with her—after all, it sounded rather logical—but Akira was quick on the rebuttal.

“That don’t matter!” She snapped, and as Vanessa weakly attempted to correct her grammar, (“that _doesn’t_ matter, mate; proper English…”) she went on more loudly, “Ed’s made it clear he’s serious about Guen!  And if he’s _really_ serious about being serious about Guen, he should’ve told her somethin’ _this_ damn important!”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t have,” Ink answered, “But maybe he had reasons why he didn’t say anything.”

“You know,” May commented reflectively, delicately shuffling a deck of playing cards as she often did in her pondering, “If you don’t beat around the bush, at the heart of the matter I have to agree with Banshee.  If Ed’s sincere, there shouldn’t be any excuse as to why he didn’t tell Guen any of this.  Even if he waited until around now to do so, he at _least_ should have told her about these things beforehand to cushion the impact, instead of just letting it all slap her in the face when she went to meet him.”

Guen shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her wings tensing slightly as she crossed her arms, silently agreeing with the older woman.  It would have been nice to have _some_ warning, and not from Rook, either.  She wished Edward had told her himself. 

“Did you try asking him why he didn’t tell you any of this?” Nessa asked, and when Guen glanced up at her, she was mildly surprised by the look of suspicion she saw in her friend’s blue gaze.

“He more or less said his reason was that he thought if he told me all this, I’d have some kind of mental breakdown or something.” She sighed, shifting her wings fractionally in the hint of a shrug.  All around the table she saw her friends exchange flat looks, unimpressed.

“ _Wow_.” Akira snorted.  “ _That’s_ a real vote of confidence.”

“Yeah, I know,” the winged woman huffed, before looking at Erin and frowning slightly.  “Is everything okay, Knightly?  You’re awfully quiet.”

Indeed, Erin had been unusually silent as she followed the entire exchange, and her cornflower-blue eyes widened slightly upon being addressed.  All eyes turned to her, and she looked down at her lap, wringing her hands in an anxious way and chewing her lower lip.  Finally, she looked up and steadily held the gaze of her younger friend.

“Are you happy, Guen?” She asked calmly, making her blink.

“Happy?” She echoed, taken aback.  That was the _last_ thing she had expected to hear, and from Erin of all people, too!  The words seemed to echo vastly in her ears as she looked at the redhead, puzzling over the question.

_Am I… happy?_

The ponderous silence that was starting to settle over the table was abruptly shattered in moments as screams erupted in the food court.  The six women jumped, tensing as one as crashes sounded, tables were flipped, and chairs were thrown.  Two men appeared to be strong-arming security guards and civilians alike, and in the panic, a third man clambered onto an empty table in one swift movement.  A vast cape billowed about his lean frame as he spread his arms wide open.  With his white costume, mask, ridiculous silver belt, and the black symbol on his chest, he almost could have been mistaken for one of the cosplayers in the crowd; but he had a dangerous air about him, reflected primarily in the wolfish smile spreading over his head.

“Please, please, my good consumerist sheep,” he addressed the crowd in a silky-smooth purr of a voice, “I mean you and yours no harm.  What my associates and I wish to accomplish here tonight is a demonstration of rebellion—rebellion against the oppressive forces that continue to poison the already corrupt system in this lost city.”

As if to emphasize the point, one of the men with him let out a loud growl and threw a chair into the menu-board of a closed restaurant, shattering the weak plastic and the fluorescent light bulbs underneath.  Several more people shrieked and screamed, and larger groups of people started to huddle together.  Ink shifted in her chair, looking ready to jump up and tackle one of the men, but was restrained by May’s and Erin’s hands on her shoulders.

“It isn’t _your_ fault you’ve all been brainwashed and kept down like a mindless herd,” the man in white went on in a pitying voice, “No, you haven’t been taught any better, taught to _truly_ think for yourselves.  But that’s what the politicians want, you see.  They _want_ you to simply do as they tell you, because they _fear_ you.  They _know_ if you were to rise against them, to reclaim your freedoms as American people, that you could truly take that power back.  They fear revolt, and they’ve grown addicted to power that they’ll kill for; they don’t want to give that up.”

Abruptly his countenance grew thunderous, and his eyes flashed.

“Well, I’m here to incite the start of an uprising.”

Something in his words was stirring up Wraith’s fighting instinct, and even as she felt her other personality’s approval, Guen also realized she too appreciated what he was getting at.  But a second glance around the food court, at all the frightened faces visible, and she knew that whatever he was doing, it wouldn’t end well.  Not here, and not like this.  Unbidden, she rose from her chair, extending her wings with a snap to effect.

“Hey, pal,” she called, keeping her voice as light and friendly as possible, “I’m liking the sound of your plan, don’t get me wrong, but you may wanna work on your approach.  I mean, the G.C.P.D. won’t really see this as a demonstration as much as destruction of public property and terrorizing innocent people.  I’m all for a little rebellion, but that’s not really easy to do from inside a cell, at least on a grand scale.”

The man in white had spun to look at her when she had started talking—as had many other eyes in the vicinity—and he had fixed her with a politely surprised look the entire time.  As her words trailed away, something like a small beam of delight brightened his face.

“Boys!” He called sharply, snapping his fingers to get the attention of his two thugs.  “Fortune smiles on our crusade.  See, the Powers of Heaven have sent an angel of loveliness to bless my selfless ambitions.”

Guen blinked, staring in disbelief.  Had she heard him right?

“Is this nutter for real?” She heard Vanessa whisper.

“Hell if I know.” Akira whispered back.

_Good question,_ Wraith’s thoughts chimed in, _I can’t tell if this guy’s mocking us or if he’s actually serious._

“Oh, my apologies,” He clucked his tongue on noticing her expression, and spoke in a honey-sweet tone, “I almost overlooked your lack of halo.  A _dark_ angel then, or a Fallen one.”

_I’m going to go with the option that he’s mocking us._ Guen thought irritably, before tucking her wings against her back and taking a few steps forward.

“Okay buddy, I’m flattered—“

“You’re a terrible liar.” He said, offering her an amused smile.  She felt a muscle twitch in her jaw, and she had to force herself to breathe in and out a few times to remain calm.

“Whatever,” she snapped briskly, “Look, did you listen to anything I said?  I’m serious, alright?  I’m totally down with power to the people, but you are _going_ to get caught and arrested.  If you don’t believe it, you can check the tracking device around my ankle.  I know what I’m talking about, alright?”

The arrogant air about him faded somewhat as he glanced from her eyes to her ankles and back again.

“You’re serious.” He spoke in an even, guarded voice.

“Um, _yeah_?” She said, more than a little annoyed he was just now catching on.  What was _with_ this guy?

“And you’re serious about supporting my uprising?”

She bit the inside of her lip, her mind racing.  She needed to avoid answering in a way that he could twist into her agreeing to be a willing accomplice or something.  Still, she didn’t want him to think she was being insincere either.

“I’m all for rebellion and power to the people,” she repeated her earlier words cautiously, “But you’re still going about it in a kind of stupid way.”

The entire food court seemed to hold its breath, anxiously awaiting the outcome.  The man in white pondered her a moment, drumming his fingertips together.

“May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” He asked finally, his voice soft and respectful.

“You first.” She shot back, crossing her arms, and he smiled approvingly.

“Please,” he said with a showy flourish of his cape, “Call me Anarky.  And, you are?”

“At the moment,” she answered stiffly, “Guen Pendragon.”

His eyes widened as a look of comprehension and recognition dawned on his face.

“ _The_ Miss Pendragon?” He asked, and in moments, the over-excited delight was back in his manner.  “How _fortuitous_!  I was hardly expecting to meet you so soon!”

His words sent chills down her spine.  “You what?” She gasped, tensing.  Behind her, low murmurs erupted among her friends.  They would jump at a moment’s notice to defend her, she knew that, but she wasn’t sure this ‘Anarky’ was a real threat… at least, not yet.

“A mutual acquaintance suggested the two of us would benefit from an alliance with one another.” He said by way of explanation.  “But I didn’t anticipate running into you like this!  It is a sincere delight, Miss Pendragon.  And, may I just say…?”

He hopped off of the table, closing the distance between them in that single leap, and raised his eyebrows beneath his mask in a purely suggestive way.

“I find green eyes fatally attractive.”

WHAP _KRAAASSH_!!

“Guen!” Her friends shouted, shocked.  She had no answer for them, and even if she did, Wraith had taken charge.  Smacking Anarky with a wing had been pure instinct, reflexive really, and Wraith didn’t quite care about the possible consequences at that moment.  She watched icily as Anarky untangled himself from the tables and chairs, his two henchmen panicking as they rushed to his aid.

“Word of advice,” she growled in her rough voice, “Don’t invade a girl’s personal space.  Dumb idea, no matter how you look at it.”

Anarky looked up at her, the expression on his mask showing mixed astonishment and guarded skepticism.  His eyes seemed to burn into hers as he got to his feet, and behind her, she heard the girls getting to their feet as well.  If it had been tense before, it was infinitely worse now.

“Evidently.” He agreed in a raspy, frigid tone.

“B-boss?” The larger of his two companions said anxiously.  “Do you—should we—?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Junkyard Dog,” Anarky sighed, “Her friends are going to _flatten_ you both.”

It was then he moved.

He was almost too fast to follow, charging with his entire body bent parallel to the ground, and even as Wraith’s raptor senses registered the threat, he threw capsules from his belt that exploded into clouds of opaque smoke.  Screams began anew and several choking coughs and shouts could be heard as well.  She barely had time to reach for the hilt of her scythe before her legs were kicked out from under her.

Time slowed down.  She spun into the fall, rolling her body just in time to shield the impact with her left wing.  She hit the floor roughly, hardly thinking about anything anymore, and lashed out with a sweeping arc of her right leg.

The blow connected and Anarky let out a sharp groan of pain.  Immediately Wraith swung her free wing forward, and it smacked against his body, but failed to completely knock him off his feet.  Instead, he swatted her wing aside with a growl, and more smoke capsules burst in the air.  Panicked shouting, hysterical screams, sounds of fighting all launched an assault on the ears.  With a hiss, Wraith covered her ears on instinct, squeezing her eyes shut… and the glancing blow off the edge of a cape slapped her in the face.  She let out a cry of alarm.

“ _Don’t_ make me do this, please.” Anarky’s voice sighed, unexpectedly close to her.  “I prefer to make alliances with people I am on _good_ terms with.”

She couldn’t see much through the miasma of smoke, and the clamor around them was only growing louder.  But a glance was all she needed to see that white mask, the contours of Anarky’s face giving it definition in the haze.  She rolled off of her side, right hand sliding around to cover her midriff as she punched upward with her left.  But he was still faster, jerking out of the way in time, and caught the uppercut with the edge of his forearm.

“You’re quick.” The approval was back in his voice.  He lunged out with his other hand, and she moved to grab his wrist and prevent the strike.

Their fingers interlocked as each tried to force the other’s hand away.  The contact was sudden, jolting Wraith and stealing her breath in a raw gasp.  Anarky’s hand was warm beneath his glove, and heavy in the strange way men’s hands were always heavy, even when they were gentle.  Small pinpricks of electric fire were sent tingling through her palm, and an unexpected shiver ran up Wraith’s spine and through her wings.

“You flatter me, Speedy Gonzales.” She muttered dryly.  He gave her an impish grin.

“Yes, I think I like you too.” He replied in a chipper way.

“Wait, _what_?!” She squawked, jerking her hand away from him.  But she had no time to be dumbfounded over what he said.  A new voice cut through the frenzied cacophony, bellowing with the force of a bullhorn.

“Gotham P.D.!!  All civilians down!  Everyone down on the ground, NOW!”

For an instant, Wraith felt a stab of relief.  Thank _God_ the G.C.P.D. was showing up so timely for once!  Anarky flinched away, scowling in the gloom, and in seconds he had vanished.  But Wraith’s relief was short-lived as she realized it was her handler shouting for order.  Yin was _not_ going to be happy.

“Wraith!” Erin whispered nearby, and she shifted to find her friend staring at her, blue eyes wide as the smoke began to disperse.

“Get the rest of the girls and get out of here!” She hissed. “I can’t promise Yin would just let you all walk away.  Get going!”

The redhead gave a quick nod of understanding and slipped away.  Wraith sighed as she pushed herself up off the floor, hoping the rest of the girls weren’t too badly hurt and could disappear into the rest of the mall without the cops catching sight of them.  This had been a _stupid_ idea, and she didn’t want them taken in on her account.

All around her, people were murmuring relief as the police started moving among them.  Many of them remained close to one another, but the arrival of the authorities seemed to put fresh heart back into them.  It didn’t take long for Wraith to catch a glimpse of Detective Yin; she was deftly weaving her way through the crowd, standing out from the beat cops in her bright red jacket.  She kept her semi-automatic aloft and there was an anxious look in her eye.  She turned, caught sight of the winged woman, and the anxiety vanished, replaced by something that looked very like open relief.

“Pendragon!” She yelled, holstering the gun and elbowing her way over.

“Hey, Detective.  You missed all the action.” She gave a weak laugh.  “We were gonna hand out autographed brass knuckles and everything, it was great.”

Unsurprisingly it turned out this wasn’t the best thing to joke about.  The detective’s look of relief vanished, to be replaced by a scowl of irritation.

“I know you think you’re very clever, Wraith,” she grumbled, grabbing the ex-Rogue by a shoulder and forcefully starting to steer her through the crowd as she lowered her voice, “But this isn’t funny.  I expect you to tell me _everything_ that happened here on our way back in the squad car.”

“Naturally.” Wraith agreed in the most amiable tone she could manage, rolling her eyes when the detective wasn’t looking.

“And another thing.” Yin added, leaning in closer as her voice dropped to a whisper.  “Your friend dropped by.  The one in the black shroud with the beaky mask.”

Wraith nearly missed a step in surprise.  “The Plague Doctor?” She prompted, and Yin gave a nod of confirmation.

“You know, I would have preferred to hear it from you directly, not some spook in a plague doctor bird-mask,” she said in a low, steely voice, “But he told me about your… condition.”

She blinked at her handler.  In light of the situation, she found she didn’t feel as angry as she probably should have, knowing that the older woman had learned her secret.  The fact P.D. had been the one to tell her should have been cause enough to get angry, but Wraith felt rather relaxed, and Guen echoed the feeling at the back of her mind.  After all, the Plague Doctor was odd as hell, but he had saved her life on that first criminal consultant “outing.”  He had been the one to diagnose her affliction, and while the restrictions he tried to enforce on her afterward felt patronizing on some level, he meant well.  And he had thought to tell Yin about it… somehow that eased Wraith and Guen both.

“I can understand why you didn’t want to tell me.” Ellen continued, losing her edge, tone softening.  “But it helps me to know.”

Wraith nodded mutely, and for a few minutes they were silent as they moved out of the foot court, exiting the building for the parking lot and squad cars.  Then abruptly, Ellen spoke.

“Nygma doesn’t know, does he?”

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement simply awaiting affirmation.  Wraith frowned down at the pavement, slowly shaking her head.  She heard an intake of breath, ready to form another question, and she shook her head again.

“Right now, I don’t want him to know.” She said sharply.  “Guen doesn’t feel comfortable with telling him right now, and after the way today went, _I_ don’t think he deserves to know just yet.”

Yin made a noise of contemplation as she led her to the vehicle, and Wraith could feel those dark eyes studying her carefully.

“Sounds like you still have some things to work out.” She remarked, not unkindly.  “If I could make a suggestion, Pendragon?”

“Why not?” She snorted back.  “Even if I say no, I have a feeling you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You haven’t told anyone about this.  Maybe Batman, but he probably figured most of it out himself and just told you to confirm it.” Yin said, unlocking the squad car and opening the back door.  She turned, facing Wraith, looking her in the eye.  “You need to tell someone.  Probably someone you can trust.”

“Not exactly a bomb I wanna just drop on my friends or family right now either.”

“Then find someone who won’t judge you based on your condition and how it came about, and tell _them_.  This isn’t a burden you can just carry by yourself.  But sooner or later, you won’t be able to keep it a secret any more.”

Shame and irritation burned in Wraith’s face, in her chest.  She crossed her arms and looked away, puffing her wings.  The detective remained quiet a moment more, then turned back to the mall, sighing as she returned to help the other officers finish getting things under control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I died a little inside writing Banshee's text message and I will forever die a little bit inside whenever I re-read it.


	4. Introductions Lead To Small Talk

Several people looked up as the door in the hideout slammed, wincing slightly.  The boss had gone on a date with the woman they knew as Wraith and if his reaction was anything to go off of, it hadn’t gone well.

“I’m not surprised,” someone snarked.  “She looked like high-maintenance trouble the second she walked in.”

Mystery’s head snapped up and she glared darkly around the room, quelling the small bit of laughter that had started up.  Instantly everyone refused to meet her eyes, save for the ever-silent mercenary known as Phantom and of course Kwiz Kid, who was glaring along with Mystery.  The two teens finally exchanged a look and rose from their respective seats to go into the Riddler’s “office”, Phantom trailing along in their wake.

“Boss?” Mystery asked at the same moment Kwiz said “Sir?”  They exchanged another look, one of utmost annoyance that the other would dare play suck-up, before attentively looking back at their shared mentor.  Riddler was bent over his desk, hands white-knuckled as they gripped the edges, and he worked his jaw in a tense way as he looked back at them over his shoulder.

“Be honest with me for a moment?” He asked, and without waiting for a response he went on.  “The dichotomy that is Guen Pendragon.  Seen for but a moment, but more than able to make a strong first impression, wouldn’t you say?  What did the two of you think of her?”

“She’s…different.” Kwiz answered, shrugging.

“I like her,” Mystery interjected, “a lot.”

Riddler looked over his shoulder at her and gave a small, fleeting smile of approval.  After a second or so his smile disappeared in a flicker of frustration as he walked around and sat behind the desk, seething a moment.

“She walked out on me little more than halfway through our lunch date, with barely an explanation or warning!  One minute things seemed fine, then the next she cut me off and just up and left.”

He punctuated the point with a thump of a hand against the desk and the two teens exchanged a confused look.  True, there had been some tension between the winged woman and Mr. Nygma when they had met her, but they genuinely had feelings for one another didn’t they?  What could have happened to make Guen just run off so suddenly?

There was a slight shuffling behind them and they glanced over their shoulders a moment.  Phantom was shifting her weight from one foot to the other as though the thread of conversation was making the mercenary bodyguard uncomfortable.  They didn’t think on it however and quickly turned back to their mentor.

Little did the other three realize Phantom _was_ being made uncomfortable by the discussion.  She was respectful enough to take issue with other people speaking against this “Guen Pendragon” but otherwise she was nervous.  She had been acting as a bodyguard for Mr. Nygma for a few months now, and while she said very little, especially about herself, she feared her own feelings were blatantly obvious.  The Riddler was beyond intelligent, funny in his own clever way, charming… and he treated her more like a person than a hired accessory.  Bodyguards were to be seen and not heard as a general rule, but Nygma would talk to her and at times ask for her thoughts and input on matters.  And spending that time around him made her happy beyond anything she had ever felt before.  She had thought the rumors mentioning he had a girlfriend were merely empty words—after all, nobody working under Nygma save Rook had ever actually _seen_ this woman—or else that the relationship wasn’t all that serious.

But then Guenhivyre Pendragon had walked in and created waves in her wake.  And Phantom felt like a lead weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach.

_What chance do I stand of him ever noticing me now?_

That single thought threatened to engulf and overwhelm her, and it was with no small measure of relief that she answered the door when there came an insistent rapping at it.  She had barely swung the door in when another woman entered, a stranger whose severe haircut, ageless face, and heavy overcoat combined in such a way she looked as if she’d stepped out of an old film noir piece.  Dogging the woman’s footsteps was none other than Rook, looking alarmed and a bit sheepish.

“I’m sorry, boss!” He managed to stammer out as the woman approached the desk with a placid expression.  “Sh-she just showed up and sorta… let herself in.  We couldn’t stop her.”

The Riddler looked up a moment and a flicker of recognition crossed his face as he and the stranger made eye contact.

“Ahh, Sofia,” he said with a bit of a drawl and a challenging sneer.  “I always knew you’d come back.”

“Did you?” She asked in a disinterested way, imperturbable boredom a perfect mask on her face.  Her olive-green eyes swept across the room, assessing and categorizing without appearing to really see anything that was there.  Phantom knew the look; she’d been trained to evaluate her surroundings upon entering new environments, though for her it was from a mercenary standpoint.  This woman seemed to simply take in everything like she was filing away the information to store in her head for later use.  Phantom tensed slightly beneath her body armor.  Did this Sofia present a threat…?

“Of course I did!” Riddler said triumphantly.  “You can’t resist the chance for an intellectual challenge, a mental sparring partner, or the thrill and gamesmanship that comes with running in my circles!”

“What a deduction.” She said in a toneless way, her face betraying no emotion whatsoever about his remarks.  Phantom glanced over at Rook, who shrugged a bit helplessly.  Apparently he wasn’t sure what to make of this either.  She looked to Mystery and Kwiz Kid, unsurprised to see them also watching the stranger suspiciously.

“Are you saying that’s _not_ why you’re here?” Riddler went on, prompting Sofia to smile in a sort of mockingly-sweet way.

“Now when did I say that?” She asked innocently.  “I’ve barely said a word in edgewise and already you’re making insinuations based off casual remarks.  Whatever is that about, Edward?”

“Considering the circumstances under which you left, why else would you be back?” He retorted, before a suspicious look came over his face.  “UNLESS you’re here to _spy_ on me!”

At this Rook finally reacted, shifting and fixing his boss with a flat stare.  Sofia merely shrugged.

“Does it really matter one way or another?” she responded.  “Given you’re already suspicious of me and I’ve been yet granted access to this base?  If I’m here as a spy, there’s probably little I could accomplish without you hovering over my shoulder.  If I’m returning in hopes of acceptance back into a circle in which my abilities excel, then we can consider this a trial period to ensure my loyalty toward your aims is validated.”

Tense silence followed this declaration.  Rook and Mystery looked to the Riddler for guidance and Riddler looked at the woman called Sofia, who met his gaze levelly.  Phantom looked between them both, unnerved beneath her façade of calm, and was surprised when she realized Kwiz Kid was also glancing between his mentor and the mysterious stranger with a calculating expression.  Finally the silence broke when Riddler smiled thinly and extended a hand in offering.

“Welcome back to the fold, Phoenix.”

*****

There weren’t many individuals who could truly make Wraith cringe away with guilt when they spoke; she wasn’t a woman who could be so easily intimidated.  Fewer still were the number of individuals who could accomplish that effect _without_ actually speaking a word to her, and unfortunately two of them were with her at that moment.  One shared her personal head space; the other was busy silently looking over her in a fussy manner.

“Look,” she said at last, “Would it help if I apologized to you both?”

The Plague Doctor looked up with a sharp jerk of his beaked mask, and Wraith wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what his actual expression looked like.  In her head, Guen seethed red-hot with anger, hurt, fear, and a sense of personal betrayal.  Wraith cringed again in anticipation of the impending explosion.

_What, you think a little apology is just going to gloss this all over?!_

Wraith gritted her teeth, already feeling cowed.

_Uhh, kinda yes, kinda no?_ She answered hesitantly.  She was given the impression of an enraged glare and cringed again, trying to rapidly press on.   _Look Guen, I_ am _sorry.  I didn’t know; you know I just tend to block everything else out if I get into a fight.  It’s just part of how I am… how we are.  Had I not blocked everything else out, I’d have backpedaled right away._

There was a tense mental silence and without warning, Wraith felt her wings puffing up against her control.  A spike of panic launched through her.  When Guen got upset she usually retreated and gave Wraith command; never before had she—even unintentionally—tried to take control back.  Granted, ever since Milo, Wraith had never before blocked out Guen’s voice she was onset with a panic attack.

_I know._ Guen finally said somewhat moodily, and their wings started to relax.   _I know you didn’t mean it; you couldn’t help it, I guess.  Harpy eagle DNA, harpy eagle instincts.  Seriously though, next time?  Try to_ listen _when I’m panicking.  You were fighting that guy and when you went to grab his wrist and he countered…_

Wraith remembered the weird sense of electricity on the contact, coupled with the shudder _she_ hadn’t intended.  Guen had panicked but Wraith had shut her down and out and kept trying to fight.  She couldn’t entirely help her response to an adrenaline rush and they both knew it.  But still…

_When he countered, you had a panic attack and I didn’t listen or pay attention to your signals._ Wraith finished.   _I’m sorry, Guen… I’ll try better for both of us next time._

She got no response beyond the impression of begrudging placation and after a moment, the tension left her.  Wraith sighed in relief as her muscles relaxed and she started paying attention to the Plague Doctor’s continued examination of her.  He was an oddity, and even saying that was an understatement.  He didn’t trigger her or Guen, which led her to question what his gender actually was, but he did give her that eerie sense of something otherworldly, inhuman.  At first this had frightened Guen and set Wraith on edge, but in the past two months or so, both personalities had come to like and trust the enigmatic being since that initial encounter.

The Plague Doctor slowed to a pause as if sensing her thoughts and waited expectantly.

“We’re okay.  For the time being.  Er, with each other, that is.  Guen and I are.” Wraith explained.  When he didn’t so much as budge, she added, “Sorry, P.D.  I know, I know.  I disobeyed the doctor’s orders.”

After a moment he gave a small, somewhat accusatory nod.  But that was all and as he resumed his fussing, she noticed he had relaxed a bit.  With a slight internal sigh, Wraith allowed all of her exhaustion to creep up on her.  At least Guen and P.D. had been forgiving.

With a tiny mental nudge she reached for the part of her that was Guen, and the two slipped between, trading places as Wraith decided to rest.

“You’re tired.”

The words felt strange upon Guen’s ears as she resumed control.  It was odd enough to hear the entity called the Plague Doctor speak.  But it felt stranger still to hear that casual observation.  She shook her head slowly.

“Wraith’s the exhausted one.” She countered.

“She is part of you.  You have only one body and one mind.  You are tired.” He argued back calmly.  She started to speak only to realize her mind hadn’t quite thrown together a counter-argument, and simply closed her mouth again with a sigh as she hung her head.  Alright, aside from the points he made being valid, she was having trouble thinking.  He was right; Guen was tired, whether she liked admitting to it or not.

“Alright,” she said at last, “I’m tired.  But I’m not exactly in the mood to nap right now.  I’m not about to collapse or anything, am I?”

There was a shake of the masked head.

“So is there anything else I could do for a while instead of napping?  Maybe something that will keep me awake but won’t be too strenuous or dangerous?  What do you recommend, sir?” She asked politely as he strode to a small table and started writing on a piece of scrap paper.  For a long moment the only sounds puncturing the silence were the gentle scratching of pen against paper and the soft ticking of the wall clock.  Something about the rhythms made Guen want to lie on her side and nod off, and she had to fight to stay awake.  But then at last the Plague Doctor laid down the pen and brandished the paper at her insistently.  She took it and glanced down, taking a moment to decipher the slanting, spidery handwriting.  There appeared to be an entire list of instructions she was to follow, many of which she knew would aggravate Wraith to no end.  It was at the bottom of the page where she finally found the advice she wanted in that instant, though it wasn’t quite what she was expecting.

_Take a walk._

She had to ponder it for a moment.  Take a walk?  In Gotham City?  The only reason she didn’t ask her mysterious doctor was this was his recommendation was due to the fact he had already gone.  Encounters with him in the past months had shown the Plague Doctor had a habit of appearing and vanishing as abruptly as Batman, and Guen was finally used to the eccentric entity.  Still she had to question why he thought a walk would do her good; even in this nicer part of the city, chances were high she could encounter some kind of danger.

_Oh well,_ she thought with a bit of a sigh.   _Doctor’s orders, I guess._

Standing, she took a glance at the window and thought longingly of gliding down to the sidewalk.  Probably better to avoid that though, in the event she spooked the non-hostile residents or made a total idiot of herself.  Still, the Plague Doctor had ordered her to stop “ghosting” when they’d first met, so gliding sounded like a welcome change.  She had secretly enjoyed being able to turn insubstantial whenever she so pleased, and the convenience it had allowed her.  And yet the last time she had attempted to use it, she felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside.

It would be a while before she could “ghost” again, if at all.  So what harm would a little gliding to the ground do?  After all, what P.D. didn’t know wouldn’t kill him, right?

It occurred to her that those last few thoughts were rather Wraith-like as she strode to the back deck and positioned a foot on the edge of the railing.  At least being on the third floor of the apartment had _one_ upside, and Guen took full advantage of it as she carefully stretched her wings open.  A breeze wafted through her feathers and she let out a small shiver of delight.  When her wings had first budded and fledged, she’d hated the things; they were something alien, different, and not natural.  And yet now they were as much a part of Guen as Wraith was.  Caring for the two extra limbs could be a hassle, that was true, but her wings were what made her _her_.  And now as another breeze moved between her feathers she knew that it was good conditions for gliding.  This wasn’t a sense she could explain, but she just knew it was.

_Alright, enough wasting time!_ She scolded herself.   _Let’s get this walk in before the rain comes or something._

One experimental flap of her wings… two…

She sprang, launching herself from the deck and unfurling her wings to the sides.  Air moved through her feathers as they created a heavy drag, slowing her descent.  Small flaps with the edges of her wings gave her just enough height and distance to soar gently to the sidewalk and she touched down on the pavement, skipping a few steps as she folded her wings and worked to restore her balance.  Somewhere a dog started barking wildly.

“Oh, fudge bucket.” She muttered.  If a dog saw her and spooked, chances were somebody also saw her and got spooked.  Yin was _not_ going to be happy, even if she _was_ trying to be nicer.  Gritting her teeth and hoping for the best, she turned to the side to look for the dog.

It was running straight at her.

Out of instinct she froze, but even so she realized the following second just how small the dog was.  No taller than her knee, it had floppy ears and a random assortment of black and brown spots.  A mutt most likely, and a very vocal one at that.  The little dog ran straight for her, barking the whole way and trailing a leash behind it.  It came to a stop a few feet from her and continued to bark, angling itself in such a way it was clearly afraid.

“He-hey, little guy.” She said gently, holding up both hands slowly.  “It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The dog gave a few uncertain barks in its high, puppy-like way, then paused with a small whine as its ears rose fractionally.  Guen bent her knees slowly, crouching down level with the animal and extending a palm for it to smell.  It gave another bark, backed up a few steps, and then barked again.

“It’s okay,” Guen put on the most reassuring voice she could.  “It’s okay.”

The dog gave an uncertain whine but inched forward, watching her hand and lifting its ears a little higher.  After a few seconds had passed it sniffed her fingers and licked her hand tentatively.

“See?” she said, unable to keep a smile from her face.  “Friends.”

“Yap!”

She glanced up from the dog, surprised by the voice.

“Yap!”

A young man around her age was running toward them.  He seemed around average height and build, but his gray hoodie and sweatpants were so baggy she couldn’t be sure.  A long, thick, curly ponytail of red hair trailed behind him, and so many more curls framed his forehead and the edges of his face Guen half-wondered if he’d stepped out of some 80’s hair salon advertisement.

“Yap, you _menace_!” He grumbled in exasperation, slowing down as he neared them.  The dog turned, wagging his tail happily as his master knelt down and gathered up the leash, but the young man looked up at Guen.  “I’m so, so sorry!  He usually doesn’t get away from me.  I’m really sorry if he bothered you!”

Guen looked at him, and without warning found herself reflecting that up close, he was rather cute.  Like any redhead he was somewhat pale, and a faint spattering of freckles marked his nose and the higher part of his cheeks.  His eyes were a deep, brilliant shade of blue framed by shocking blond lashes, and they were watching her somewhat nervously for a response.

“No,” she answered automatically.  “He’s fine, he wasn’t a bother.  Just startled me, that was all.”

“Sorry about that,” he repeated as he extended a hand to shake.  “I’m Lonnie, by the way.  Lonnie Machin.”

Instinctively Guen curled a little tighter in on herself, wrapping her arms around her sides as she looked away from the offered hand.

“Erm, sorry.  I don’t really shake.” She murmured.  After a second, she attempted an apologetic smile, not wishing to offend.  “I-I’m Guen.”

Lonnie smiled back at her, a quirk of the corner of his mouth that revealed a dimple in his left cheek.  Guen swallowed, feeling her face grow warm.  He was _really_ cute.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Guen.” He said, checking Yap’s collar and leash to make sure they were secure.  “You like dogs?”

“Yeah,” she said, standing up straight again.  “Never had one, though.”

“Why not?” Lonnie asked curiously as he also straightened up, wrapping the leash around his fist.  She gave a small shrug, unable to think of a response.  There was a logical reason why she’d never had a dog of her own, but her brain wasn’t bothering to put words to it.  No, she had gotten lost trying to listen to Lonnie’s voice; something about the sound of it was vaguely familiar.  As she tried to think of what it could be, Lonnie flushed and pointed to himself.

“D-do I have something on my face…?” He asked uncertainly.  Guen rapidly shook her head.  Idiot!  She’d been staring!

“Oh!  N-no, sorry.  I didn’t mean to be rude!” She said, starting to recede into her rapid-fire chatter that still surfaced in awkward moments.  “I just… you seem kind of familiar.  Have we met before?”

“I couldn’t rightly say, I mean…” He flushed and glanced down, trying to hide a shy smile.  “I think I’d remember meeting such a lovely lady with wings.”

Guen stiffened a bit and as Lonnie looked up and saw this, his face fell.

“Oh, s-sorry.  I didn’t wish to offend.” He began to say, but she waved him down.

“It’s fine; most people don’t know what to make of a woman with six limbs when they first meet me anyway.” She said with a small chuckle.  “Actually, you’re probably the first person who hasn’t stared like I’ve got some fatal, disfiguring disease.  It’s kind of nice.”

He relaxed and began to smile again.  “Well, I’m glad to shake things up for you then.” He remarked.  “Are you headed anywhere?  I could—I mean we, that is, Yap and I—could escort you there to make up for earlier.”

She shook her head.  “I’m not going anywhere special,” she replied, rolling her shoulders in a shrug, “just walking.  Uh…but you’re um, welcome to…to join me, if you want?”

The words were out of Guen’s mouth before she had fully thought them through, and a second too late she wished she’d bitten her tongue.

_I don’t know this guy!_ Her brain started to scream at her.   _Guen, don’t be an idiot; it’s not safe to just go walking around this crazy city with a complete stranger!_

Lonnie’s face brightened and his smile became a little broader.

_He’s a cute stranger,_ her thoughts supplied most unhelpfully, _He has a dog, and he looks like an 80’s glam rock child.  I’m not getting a bad vibe from him, just the déjà vu sense we’ve met before.  Besides, I’ve never met a guy before—a_ normal _guy—who doesn’t stare at me because of my wings.  It feels nice to be able to relax a little around someone._

She felt some nagging guilt concerning Edward but shut it down.  After that disastrous lunch, she deserved to talk to a gentleman.  And besides, as with the Plague Doctor, what Eddie didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“Why thank you!” He said, beaming as the two of them fell into step together and he coaxed Yap along.  “Not every day I get to go on an evening stroll with someone new… or quite so dog-friendly, for that matter.”

Guen let out a small laugh and glanced down at the little dog, who looked up at her and wagged his tail in a hopeful way.

“Well,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back as they walked, “helps when the dog is as small and cute as your little friend here.  You said his name was Yap?  How long have you had him?”

“Few years now,” Lonnie answered, smiling affectionately down at his pet.  “He just followed me home one day and we’ve been best buds since.  Guess we just knew we needed each other.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.”

And so they walked on, pursuing idle chatter and small talk conversations for a while as the sun started to sink and the evening grew cooler.  Lonnie, it turned out, was surprisingly intellectual and open about his thoughts and opinions with her, as well as polite and engaging, taking every opportunity to prompt her to share her own thoughts and opinions too.  Guen found herself growing quite comfortable around him the more they talked; she wasn’t sure when she had last smiled so much.  They were just starting to run out of ice-breaker topics when a thought occurred to her unexpectedly.

Yin had told her the previous day to find someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge her based on her condition and how it came about.  She couldn’t carry the weight of the burden without talking to _someone_.  Lonnie was a complete stranger for the most part; she had no guarantee whether or not he would be judgmental, but at least he would probably be honest.

“Hey, um…” she began awkwardly.  “Could I talk to you about something, Lonnie?”

He paused, looking at her skeptically.  His brilliant blue eyes, full of laughter and delight since they’d been talking, flickered.  Abruptly he seemed much older, far more serious, and Guen had the strange sense of déjà vu again as she met the intense gaze.

“Yes.” He said with a tone of quiet patience.

“It’s a secret.” She explained, again slipping into her rapid-fire babbling as she looked down at her feet.  “I haven’t told anyone yet.  Not my friends, not my family.  Not even my… whatever-he-is.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Lonnie asked, a strange note in his voice.

“Ugh, something like that?  It’s complicated.” She sighed.  “Only a few people know about this, and the only reason they know is because they figured it out themselves, not because I told them.”

For a long moment neither said anything.

“Big secret.” He finally remarked, and as he caught her eye and winked, a faint smile flickered over his face.  “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

She gave a small nod, unwinding marginally.

“I…” Words seem to fail her without warning.  Would she even be able to say it, now that she had someone to tell?  This was what she had been afraid of.

Again there came the intrusive memory of those hateful dark eyes, of blood and pain…

Guen shook off the sensation of phantom agony, wanting it all to end.

“Yes?”

Lonnie’s kind, patient prompting brought her sharply back to reality.  Some of the ghost sensations clung on, but she focused on those blue eyes that waited for her to speak.  She chewed the inside of her cheek.  It was now or never; if she didn’t say it, she never would.

“Somebody hurt me,” she began in a low voice, “badly.  I wanted to die because of what he did to me.  Sometimes… sometimes I still do.  I’ve thought about it a lot.  More than a lot, really.  Every second I’m totally by myself I keep wondering what would happen… what would happen if I climbed one of the skyscrapers or Gotham Bay Bridge with my wings pinned to my sides and just… jumped?”

Her one-man and one-dog audience had gone silent.  Guen kept her eyes on the ground as Yap moved closer to her and nudged her leg with his muzzle.  Large, loving brown eyes looked up at her with the concern and compassion only dogs and puppies could accomplish.

“But that’s not all there is to it.” She went on.  “He left behind more than just physical and emotional scars.”

“You’re… you’re pregnant?” Lonnie whispered in a gasp of shock.  Guen nodded and a second later his tone went cold and deadly.  “Was it this boyfriend of yours?  Did _he_ do this to you?”

“No!” Guen said quickly, giving a small jump.  “No, no.  No, it wasn’t Eddie.”

Lonnie made a non-committal hum, looking unconvinced, and she pressed on hurriedly.

“No, it was someone else.  He’s… he’s locked up now.  He can’t get to me again.  But...”

“But it still haunts you.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded.

“And nobody really close to you knows about this?  Even your boyfriend-whatever-he-is?” Lonnie murmured.  She shook her head silently, and after a moment he spoke up again.  “So…why tell me?  Please, don’t get me wrong!  I’m humbled you’re choosing to confide in me but… we barely know each other.”

“Exactly.” She replied, looking up into his confused face.  “We’ve just met.  So you can be brutally honest with me about what you think.”

He appeared hesitant to respond, and for a moment she wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries.  But then at last he appeared to reach some sort of conclusion and opened his mouth to reply.

“So what do you think you’re going to do then?” He asked.  “About the…the baby?  Do you not want it?”

There seemed to be an odd catch in his voice.  Was he going to judge her based on her answer to his question?  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…

“I’m not sure.” She answered at last, hoping he would hear the sincerity in her words.  “Sometimes I want to forget that I’m pregnant at all.  Other times it’s all I can think about.  Either way I never really _can_ forget it, you know?  But… I still just don’t know.  It’d be easier if I were of one, sound mind.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Sorry, it’s complicated.” She waved it off again.  “I just… don’t know right now.”

“Fair enough.” Lonnie remarked, slowly nodding his head.  “Can’t really blame you for feeling that way.  I mean, you didn’t ask for this, but it was just sort of thrown on you.”

She had nothing to say to that but simply knelt down again and started petting Yap.  For a rugged, ungainly-looking little dog, he was surprisingly warm and soft.  He responded enthusiastically to her attentions, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a canine smile as he half-jumped into her lap.

“Are you…planning on telling anyone else?” Lonnie asked after a moment.  She shrugged without looking at him.

“Won’t exactly be able to hide it before long, will I?”

“But that’s not the same as confiding in somebody before it becomes obvious.”

“True…” she admitted.  “I guess I’ll tell some of my friends before long.  I just needed to tell someone without any kind of bias first, I think.”

Awkward silence fell between them as they both avoided direct eye contact and focused on Yap.  The little dog was all-too delighted with the attention and before long he started barking again, tail wagging.  Sighing, Guen got to her feet, feeling a bit of a headache coming on.

“Well… thanks.  For talking to me.” She said, and even as the words left her mouth they sounded lame.  “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.”

Dusting off her front, she turned and began walking back in the direction of the apartment.

“W-wait a second!” Lonnie blurted out, scrambling to his feet as she looked back.  A slight flush rose in his cheeks and he scratched the back of his neck self-consciously as his mouth worked soundlessly a moment.  Guen tensed automatically.  He wasn’t going to ask her for her number, was he?

“Do you… do you ever go to any concerts?”

She tried to refrain from sucking in a breath.  He couldn’t be _serious_ …

As if to better explain, he rummaged in the pocket of his hoodie and withdrew what appeared to be four or five tickets.

“I, uh…” His blush darkened.  “I’ve got these.  Some friends and I were going to go next week but one of our friends canceled on us.  Er, I don’t know if Naomi Darkholme’s music is your thing—“

Guen’s jaw dropped against her will.

“What?  Nuh-uh, are you _kidding_ me?! You _know_ who Naomi Darkholme is?!” She gasped hoarsely, turning back to face him completely, feeling a bit awestruck.  There was no way, no possible way—

But no, there was no mistaking the way the redhead’s face was lighting up with delighted excitement.  Even as dark as it was getting outside, she could clearly see the matching dimples in his cheeks as he grinned.

“Are you for real?!  I feel like _nobody_ in Gotham knows who Naomi is!” He said breathlessly, stepping a bit closer.

“Uh,” Guen exhaled a short, stunned laugh, “she’s only the _best_ indie underground angry-Goth-rock solo singer this side of Central City!  I _love_ Naomi!”

“Have you heard her cover of Sombrero’s ’13 Chapters’?”

Guen’s eyes widened.  “She did a cover of some pop song?”

“Yes!  And it sounds _awesome_ ; SO much better than the original!” Lonnie replied, his hands flying about in his enthusiasm.  “You’ve _got_ to look it up when you have the chance!”

“Oh, believe me, I’m going to!” She promised with a chuckle.  “I can’t pass _that_ up!”

“So, uh…” Lonnie glanced down at the tickets in his hands, suddenly shy again.  “I know we just met today and all, but… I mean, if you have any time next week and you wanna go…”

Her laughter died down as she regarded him, thinking.  He was still little more than a stranger but he’d been nothing except polite and friendly with her all through their walk.  He didn’t know anything about her “job” or Wraith, but he was nonetheless asking her to hang out.

_What’s going on, Pendragon?_  Who _is asking you to hang out?_

She held back a groan.  She hadn’t felt her other personality wake and become alert.  But even as she wondered when this happened she felt the unmistakable sensation of another set of eyes looking through her own.

_Oh…_ There was definite surprise in Wraith’s voice.   _Oh, he’s_ cute _.  Why’s he asking you to hang out?  What’s he holding?_

“How would I get ahold of you to let you know?” she asked, deliberately avoiding Wraith’s questioning.  Lonnie gave a small shrug.

“Concert’s next Friday evening.  I walk Yap every Monday and Wednesday afternoon around here.  Meet up with me and you can tell me then?” He suggested, and in spite of herself she grinned.

“Well, if you’re walking your handsome friend, I _think_ I can manage to swing by and talk again.” She answered wryly, and he grinned back, eyes sparkling.

“Excellent!” He beamed, fidgeting with Yap’s leash as he returned the tickets to his pocket.  “See you next week then?”

She smiled and said nothing, turning and resuming her walk back to the apartment with a bit of a spring in her step.   _P.D.  was right,_ she said to herself as much as to Wraith.   _I guess taking a walk did me some good after all._

And overhead, perched on a low-hanging gargoyle, a single figure shifted.  His gaze behind the binoculars went from the winged woman to the young man with the dog.  Then he lowered the binoculars…and wondered.

  


*****

Thrill was an unusual sensation, Aaron decided.  It was equal parts excitement and terror.  He knew, because it was exactly what he was feeling at that very moment.

It was getting late, and before long the hideout would be shut down and everyone would be heading away.  Granted, he very much doubted that if he had been left behind in the place anyone would really notice.  He and the other new girl, Jadis, always seemed to go unnoticed when it came to perfect, _precious_ Mystery.  Still, there wasn’t any point in focusing on being bitter about his lot in it all; he had some investigating to do.

A quick glance around showed nobody was watching, and he inched down a darkened hall, looking around the corners as he went for extra precaution.  He was certain the object of his investigation had come this way.

And sure enough, there she was.  Sofia Masque, the woman Mr. Nygma had called “the Phoenix”, was huddled near the emergency exit.  And if Aaron wasn’t very much mistaken, she was talking to someone on her cell phone.  The sensation of thrill spiked in him.  What was she doing?  Mr. Nygma had mentioned earlier something about her being a spy, and Sofia had neither confirmed or denied it, not really.  Was she actually a spy, then?  Was he catching her in the act?  Was she slipping information to someone?  He inched closer, straining his ears in hopes of catching anything she was saying.

“—don’t know what he’s thinking.  This is _not_ the sort of method of management I’d agree with,” she was saying.  There was a slight pause before she went on.  “Well yes, I know _that_.  I’m just not saying it’s actually efficient, because it’s not.  …yes, I _know_ that’s my job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t complain about blatantly obvious issues that show a lack of actual intelligent thought when implemented.”

Aaron hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  Was she really spying or what she just talking to a friend or something?  It was hard to tell and he felt suddenly unsure of his deduction.

_Just my luck,_ he thought unhappily.

Then without warning, Sofia turned and caught sight of him.  For a long silent moment the two studied one another, and then Sofia pressed a finger to her lips.  Without really understanding why, Aaron found himself mimicking the motion and nodding consent.  Then without a word, he spun on his heel and walked away, thinking about what had just happened.


	5. Connections With Value

It was cool, with a damp chill on the air that soaked into the skin down to the bone, and the place was dark and oppressive, with the sensation of eyes on you at all times.  But given the fact the Batcave was a vast underground cavern, Sofia supposed that was appropriate.  It was simply part of the natural atmosphere of a cave and there wasn’t much one could do to improve it, not that she thought Batman would have wanted to.  The whole thing just suited him as was.

He was seated before the vast computer when she arrived.  Unsurprisingly he appeared to be brooding, staring intently at the computer screen with his fingers steepled before him.  He didn’t look around but Sofia had doubts he already knew she was here.  She was barely a few yards from him when Batman spoke, eyes still on the screen.

“What have you learned?” His voice was clipped, the demand blunt.  This would annoy most people, but Sofia found it was something she appreciated.  The vast majority of people weren’t so precise and straightforward in their communication.  The way Batman addressed issues made things easier for Sofia in some ways.  She kept her eyes trained on the floor and the progress of her feet, making it easier to concentrate on delivering her report.

“Largely and in part, the most I have been able to deduce is that Nygma continues to expand his syndicate network at a steady pace.  Mind you, he appears to have drastically lowered his standards in recent years in regards to who he just ‘lets in’ or hires,” she began, but before she got much farther, he interjected.

“You disapprove.”

She jerked her head up, but he still wasn’t looking at her.  This was a blessing, as she felt her cheeks growing warm.

“I never said that.” She retorted, but even as the words hung on the air she realized how defensive she sounded.  He glanced to her at last with a flat expression, and she quickly went on to pre-empt any smart remarks.  “He could simply run the operation more effectively if he actually upheld the original standards he espoused concerning the intellect of those in his employ.  Disparaging details aside, I have not yet been able to discern if he has any particular goals of late.  But I’ll keep looking; I wouldn’t be surprised if he has something hidden on his personal drives.”

There was a slow stiff nod as he looked away again.  If the Dark Knight felt one way or another about the news, he gave no indication of it.  Sofia waited for him to make another comment, to say something, but he remained silent.  A moment or two went by and she started to get impatient.

The trouble there lay in the fact that unlike most people, who might fidget in some physical way when they were nervous and impatient, Sofia had a tendency to resort to snark, sarcasm, and smart-assery.  It wasn’t something Batman appreciated though, she’d come to realize.  Therefore she could hold back the urge to fall into that habit around him, but it wasn’t always easy.

“Don’t go giving in to any delusions you may think of while you’re there, Sofia,” Batman remarked just a tad sharply.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised by his bluntness.  “You wouldn’t be suggesting that prolonged immersion in that environment might cause me to recess,” she said in slight challenge.  Of all the nerve!!

Finally the chair spun around part-way, and the spy was fixed with an icy, quelling stare.

“That is _exactly_ what I am saying.”

Sofia fell silent, unusually cowed.  The statement wasn’t accusatory in tone, but it felt almost unforgivingly judgmental and indicated Gotham’s greatest detective didn’t trust her.  Somewhere deep down, almost deep enough Sofia struggled to acknowledge it, that hurt.  Yet she found she had no idea how to argue; logically speaking, Batman’s lack of total trust in her was sensible.  On a psychological level it was a sound concern that she might recess the longer she spent in the company of the Riddler’s syndicate.  She knew when people returned to certain environments or reunited with certain individuals they hadn’t seen in years, a person could easily recess into behaviors from years past.  And given her past and past history with Edward Nygma, even she knew it would be difficult not to fall back into old habits.

But Sofia had a code she operated by, and she was adamant that she would stick to it no matter how difficult things got.

“I understand your concern,” she said evenly, “and I will do my best to keep it in mind at all times.  But I have my code and I will stick to it, that I can promise you.  I gave you my word when I started working with you, and I’m going to keep it.”

He continued to regard her quietly for some time, offering up no opinions on what she said.  She watched him, waiting for something, anything.  But when he finally spoke, what he said wasn’t anything close to what she was expecting to hear.

“You aren’t entirely alone in the syndicate, Sofia.”

Her jaw went slack and she had to work to keep her mouth from falling open like an idiot.  “I-I beg your pardon?” she asked numbly.

“You aren’t alone,” Batman repeated.  “The Gotham Police Department have someone on the inside as well, in a manner of speaking.”

“‘In a manner of speaking’?” she echoed incredulously.  He didn’t reply right away but spun around again in his chair and ran his fingers over the keyboard of the Batcomputer for a moment.  The monitor flicked through a few different screens quicker than Sofia could keep up with, before an image was pulled up of a brunette woman not too much younger than she was.  Something about the woman’s face seemed vaguely familiar, as though Sofia had seen her before.  It wasn’t until she took notice of the gray wings emerging from the woman’s back that the spy let out a noise of recognition.  She _had_ seen this woman at the Riddler’s hideout.

“Miss Pendragon isn’t exactly easy to forget once you’ve gotten a good look at her, is she?” Batman said dryly.

Sofia frowned.  “She’s an officer?” she asked uneasily.

“She’s a criminal informant-consultant,” he clarified.  “Among other things, she and Nygma have something of a relationship, if my understanding is correct.”

“They’re a couple?” she asked in surprise.

“I expect it’s a bit more needlessly complicated than that,” he remarked, reaching for a mug of hot coffee Sofia hadn’t spotted before and taking a slow sip of it.  “You know how the Riddler is.”

She chewed her lower lip, both annoyed and subdued by the unspoken jibe.  Instead she nodded, not looking directly at him.  Her gaze wandered and she found she was looking at Miss Pendragon again.  The winged woman seemed an odd choice for the police to utilize, given that she stood out so starkly.  Then again, Sofia questioned much about the police department’s choices and actions.

As if sensing her skepticism, Batman spoke up again.  “She’s in a bit of a rough spot as of late, and Detective Ellen Yin already keeps her on a very short leash.”

Sofia lifted her eyebrows.  “Oh, well I can’t imagine that’s very gratifying for any sort of bird,” she remarked dryly.

“Not particularly,” he agreed.  He paused for a moment before adding, “I believe it would be beneficial for you to talk to her, Sofia.  To get close to her and coax her to open up to you.”

“Would you like me to gain her confidence so we can later interrogate her?” she asked, beginning to feel excited.  “Does she have some information we need?”

She knew as soon as he spun toward her and she examined his face the answer to her question was no.  But the words he actually spoke were terrifying.

“I want you to build a relationship with Pendragon.”

Sofia faltered.  “You...want me to become partners with her?  A confidant?  A co-worker?”

“No.  I think it would be good for you both if you became friends.”

The spy tensed and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

Making friends was _not_ in her job description.

***

Her fingers brushed over the soft blue material in tender strokes as she turned the plush dragon over in her hands.  Yin was rambling about something or other— _again_ — and Guen was only half-listening.  Her gaze on Fangs, she lounged on the couch, her wings draped over the couch arm so she could be comfortable.  Her mind seemed to be set on some sort of loop.  It moved from the disastrous lunch with Riddler to Mystery and Kwiz Kid and then to her talk with the redheaded guy, Lonnie.  And the whole time only two turns of phrase stuck out in her mind.

_“How do you know Nygma is your Lancelot and not your Arthur?”_

_“Are you happy, Guen?”_

They were such simple questions and they should have had simple answers, yet there weren’t any.  She wasn’t entirely sure if her misgivings were a result of the pregnancy or if being pregnant had simply made certain doubts more real.  Whatever it was, she was starting to feel like many things and many people around her weren’t making sense anymore.

_And… am I… really happy?_

“Pendragon?  Pendragon, are you listening?!” Yin’s sharp tone made her jump and Fangs slipped a little in her grip.

“What?  Oh, um, yes?  Er, well, no...actually,” she replied.

The detective groaned in frustration.  “We need to make sure you can lead the G.C.P.D. to the location of Riddler’s syndicate in order for us to make a move on it.”  She had the tone of one who was growing tired of repeating herself.

Guen gave an uncomfortable squirm.  “I’m there once and you already want me to betray the trust I’m building?” she asked incredulously.

“You and the Riddler were apparently close _before_ you agreed to be our criminal informant.”

“He was there when I first talked to Batman about turning myself in,” Guen retorted.  “Don’t you think that’s bound to put him back on edge?  It’s sure to have created uncertainties in his mind, and he’d be stupid not to suspect you would make me case his hideout since he knows I’m your informant.”

Yin silently mulled over this, unable to make an argument against her suspicions.  After a moment or two, she switched tactics.

“Miss Pendragon you can’t act like this would just go ignored.  You know that if you come into contact with any other criminals, the department _will_ expect you to divulge necessary information when asked.”

“I know, I know!  It’s part of my job if I want to serve my probation and have my slate wiped clean.  But you can’t seriously expect me to just stab these people in the back already!”

“I’m not saying we’re doing it right now,” Yin replied, tense.  “I’m asking if you’re capable of leading us to the location in the future.  We still have other cases to work on in the meantime, so you’ll be able to maintain your ties to Nygma.”  She paused, then appeared to add as an afterthought, “Or… is it those two kids you’re worried about?”

Guen pointedly returned her attention to Fangs, stroking his shimmering, iridescent wings.  “I dunno,” she answered in a bored tone Yin was bound to see right through.  “You’re the detective; you tell me.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Yin cross her arms, but otherwise the detective made no comment.

A key turned loudly in the latch of the door, which swung open to admit a lovely woman whose blonde hair was just starting to get a touch of gray at the roots.  Yin looked up as she entered, and Guen sat up to look over the couch.

“Nobody panic, it’s just me,” Clio said in her half-joking way as she kicked her shoes off and shut the door behind her.

“Hey, Mom.”  Guen allowed more warmth in her voice as she eased herself up from the couch.  She crossed the room, not waiting for the older woman to set down her grocery bags before wrapping her in a hug.

“Mrs. Zeus,” Yin said respectfully.

“Oh!  I hope you’re hungry!”  Clio let out a small chuckle as she gave the grocery bags a shake.  “I bought stuff to make homemade pizza.”

“Mom, you’re singin’ the song of my people!”  Guen grinned, taking the bags and easing them onto the table.  “Is Logann going to eat supper with us tonight?”

“I don’t think so.  If my understanding is correct…” her mother paused, then leaned in conspiratorially, waggling her eyebrows and finishing in a stage whisper, “He’s taking your friend Akira out for a steak dinner tonight.”

Guen shook her head, grinning good-naturedly.  “A steak dinner, huh?  Somehow it sounds perfect for those two.  I prefer your pizza, though.  Oh well, their loss!”

“Detective?”  Clio turned to Yin as she shook off her coat.  “Did you want to stay and have supper with us?  We’ll have more than enough to make some for you as well.”

Guen stiffened, the motion following through all the way to her pin feathers.  She loved her mom, but sometimes she could be utterly confusing, not to mention downright too nice for her own good.  Yin already eliminated much of Guen’s freedom, as well as her idle time and social life.  She was willing to accept that, but she didn’t need her handler practically joining the family.  There was such a thing as taking this “criminal informant” gig too far.

“Thank you Mrs. Zeus, but no,” Yin replied, and Guen suppressed a sigh of relief.  The next second however, she stiffened again as the words that followed.  “I _would_ like to speak to you about something though.  Preferably privately.”

She glanced over her shoulder, not surprised to find both Clio and Yin had turned to look at her.  She waited it out a few seconds, then exhaled in resignation.

“Alright,” she said calmly, heading toward the door.  “Say what you have to.  I’ll be on the roof.  Come get me when you’re done.”

Before either of the other women could raise an objection she was out the door and letting it swing shut behind her.  Striding through the hall, she passed the doors of the other apartments and toward the maintenance stairwell that led to the rooftop.

Typically the maintenance stairwell was kept locked and only people with the proper key could unlock the doors to use it.  Wraith had grown irritated with that and before long had taken to slipping a lockpick in her pockets just to circumvent the issue.  So when Guen tried the door to find it locked, she slipped her hand into her left pocket and found the lockpick.  Smiling in appreciation at her other personality’s resourceful habits, she knelt down, inserted the pick, and gently worked at the tumblers.

_This wouldn’t be an issue if I could just ghost through stuff like normal._

The errant thought came to her in a flash of annoyance, and she fought to shake it off.  Becoming insubstantial was a wonderful convenience, and she kept finding more reasons why she missed it.  Still, orders were orders; the Plague Doctor did not want her ghosting in the event it would harm the baby.

_This is better anyway,_ Wraith chimed in to her thoughts.   _Practice makes perfect._

_We agreed we’re giving this up,_ Guen shot back in slight irritation.

_What about our work with the G.C.P.D.?_ Wraith challenged.   _Yin is going to ask us to pull stuff like this all the time.  Even if we give up a criminal lifestyle after we’ve served time, it’s still useful.  And besides, after just leaving college to go all Rogue, we’ve not figured out a real career for you yet._

The lock clicked open and Guen straightened up, replacing the pick in her pocket and opening the door.   _What are you suggesting, Wraith?_ she asked as she started to climb the stairs.

_What if we kept doing this?  Stayed on as a criminal consultant?  Hell, we could even transfer to other places and help them out too.  Central City’s pretty heavy on the weird stuff, so we wouldn’t stand out too much there.  Plus we got to Star City so I could break into the lab there, so chances are Green Arrow might be easier to work with than Batman.  You know, if we approach him right and all that._

Guen remained quiet as she trotted up the stairs, thinking about the suggestion.  It was true, she’d had a bright and promising future in college, though arguably she’d learned a lot more about the gritty reality of criminal psychology from living it rather than reading out of a textbook.  And it was also true she’d thrown away both her chances in college and her part-time job at the Scotsman Hotel as a server after the chaos that led all the way to where she was now.  If she had to be completely honest with herself, Guen hadn’t given her possible future much thought at all… not in light of learning about her unexpected pregnancy.

She reached the roof door and as she strode outside, her thoughts continued.  So far she had already helped the force catch and put away a troublesome ring of gunrunners new to the city, as well as to find a notorious forgery artist.  She was uncertain how wise it would be to continue on with the work; after a while the criminal underworld of Gotham City would be bound to catch on, especially since she couldn’t disguise her wings.  But the more she thought about it, the more Guen realized she enjoyed getting to work with the law while still breaking the rules.  And as for the thrill and adrenaline that came with it, that part made Wraith happy as a clam.  By all accounts it could be an ideal job for her.

Her stomach gave an abrupt growl, the sound reminding her of the one catch.  The baby.  Before long she would be told she couldn’t go out in the field with Yin because she would be too far along.  And assuming all went well with childbirth, she would have to find a way to care for the kid and still somehow work until her sentence was over.

_Being pregnant has seriously screwed things up._

Crossing her arms, she began to pace the length of the roof, going slow so she could take in the sights.  She felt angry and resentful, but she couldn’t really blame the baby.  It hadn’t ever asked to be conceived, and was innocent of its father’s sins.

Following on the heels of that thought came the unwanted memory of what happened over three months ago.  She didn’t dare close her eyes because she knew once she did, _she would remember that bastard’s face all too vividly._

“You really ought to discuss what happened, Miss Pendragon,” Professor Strange had said on more than one occasion. “It is after all, the first step to true recovery.”

_Not with him I’m not going to,_ Guen had decided stubbornly, and Wraith had backed up her choice.  Talking was needed and she would eventually tell everyone who needed to know about her pregnancy, but a creep like Strange wasn’t getting anything out of her.

She shook off those thoughts, trying to clear her mind as she kept pacing.  All she wanted was to be able to breathe in the fresh air and stretch her legs for a moment while she had the chance.  And so, she continued to pace, hugging her arms as she stared out at the city.

Suddenly Guen became aware of another presence on the rooftop with her.  She tensed, the feathers on her wings puffing out, and before she could panic too badly, Wraith took charge.  The two of them slipped in and out in a breath, and Wraith balled up her fists.

“You gonna come out and talk to me, or are you just gonna do the whole silent brooding schtick?” she said loudly, waiting for Batman’s low growl of a voice to start lecturing her.

“Is this how you greet everyone, sweet nightingale?” a completely different voice answered, and her eyes popped open wide as she spun around.  The white-suited, masked man called Anarky stepped into view, smiling in a coy way as he regarded her.

“Nightingale,” Wraith echoed flatly.  “Where’d you pull that one from, a princess movie?”

“Now, now, now,” he said in a soothing tone.  “There’s no need for that.  I know we sort of got off on the wrong foot—”

“Oh, just sort of?”

“But I did mean what I said before, Miss Pendragon.  I was hoping our paths would cross.  Tell me, are you familiar with the individual who goes by the alias of Dungeonmaster?”

Wraith raised her eyebrows, taken aback.  “Gary Myers?  He’s a robotics engineer.  Kind of, anyway.”  Growing suspicious, she scowled and asked, “Why?”

“Why, it was Mr. Myers who mentioned you to me!” Anarky replied as he started pacing, his gaze fixed on her eyes.  He stayed, Wraith noticed, a good distance away from a potential wing-slap.

_Smart boy,_ she thought grudgingly.  Aloud she asked, “Gary told you about me?  What for?  He keeps to himself.  He’s not the type to sell someone out.”

“No, he isn’t,” he agreed, giving a brief nod.  “And I admire that about him.  It feels rare lately to see someone actually maintaining their integrity and staying loyal to others.  However when I approached Mr. Myers seeking an ally, he mentioned you might be interested.  Or at the very least, you might be open to the possibility of working with me.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a flat look.  “Y’know I’m just a little-lotta-bit unsure after that stunt you pulled at the mall, especially since Guen tried to talk you out of it before I stepped in.  Not that I’m not down for the idea of down-with-the-janked-system, of course.”

His pacing slowed as he watched her, his expression open and unassuming, unbothered.  It was strange but for some reason, Wraith felt like he actually cared about and was interested in what she was saying.

_Kind of feels like_ déjà vu _in a weird way,_ Guen whispered.

“Actually this doesn’t really have to do with my mission to purge Gotham of its political cancer.  If you’re interested though, I wouldn’t say no to some help there as well.”  A corner of Anarky’s mouth twitched up in a half-smile before he resumed a serious expression.  “This is about the murder of your father.”

“My father?” Wraith echoed in confusion for a second before she understood.  “Wait, you mean Arty Pendragon?”

Anarky’s cowl bobbed as he nodded his head.  “That is correct,” he replied.  “I trust you know he and the late Mr. Myers senior were both murdered by the same person?”

She frowned deeper, pursing her lips.  “We always figured their deaths were connected, but we didn’t know that for sure, let alone figure they were probably killed by the same person.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face her directly, and pressed the tips of his fingers together.  “Believe me when I say that circumstances brought things to light and I’ve learned they were.  That is the reason I am here.  That is the reason both the Dungeonmaster and now you have come to my attention.  I know who killed your fathers.”

Wraith sucked in a deep breath, tensing.

_He can’t be serious!_ Guen spluttered.   _Nobody knows that, and Gary’s practically been hunting like a bloodhound for answers to his father’s death for ages!_

_But he_ is _serious,_ Wraith argued.   _I can hear it in his voice and I can read it in his body language.  Either he knows something not even Gary’s found, or he’s one hell of an actor._

Guen gave an unsure hum in response and Wraith took a few seconds to steady herself.  She hated trying to keep cool—she was the instinctive raptor responses of the two personalities, after all—but she had to play this smart.

“Sorry if I’m a bit skeptical,” she began, but he held up a hand to forestall her, a smile spreading over his face.

“No apologies necessary,” he said in an easy, lilting voice.  “I’m not at all surprised you don’t trust me.  But perhaps I could give you reason to consider what I’m saying.  Forgive me for not asking sooner, but what is _your_ name?”

She blinked in surprise.  “Wraith,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.  Anarky’s smile widened and his eyes seemed to glitter beneath his mask.

“Interesting,” he trilled.  “I must say, it suits you.”

Her cheeks grew warm with the threat of a blush and she did her best to force it back in annoyance.  In the back of her head Guen registered the reaction and sent out waves of confusion.  Wraith extended her wings around her slightly, hoping to block the glow of city lights from illuminating her face.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she muttered.

“You should join me,” he said brightly, acting as if he hadn’t missed a beat.  “We have a common enemy.  I know he plans to come to Gotham soon, to try to further oppress it and twist it under his thumb.  I plan to move against him, and I know Mr. Myers wants vengeance for his father’s murder.”

He took a few steps closer, spreading his hands in excitement.

“And an ally like you?” he said in a low voice.

“What about me?” she shot back, pulling a face.

“We could make such a _brilliant_ team!” Anarky exclaimed, throwing his arms up into the air.  “I sense a kindred spirit in you.  You’re wild, untamed…”  He quirked a brow and gave another sultry smile.  “And I like that about you.”

The blush threatened to grow darker as Wraith forced her expression into careful neutrality.  This was definitely different.  She was _not_ used to guys flirting with her specifically.  If anything Guen was the one that was hit on or liked, especially where Edward Nygma was concerned.  Wraith was used to being ignored or tolerated, the unfortunate luck of being Guen’s alternate personality… again especially where Nygma was concerned.

“Just one little flaw in your plan there, Casanova,” she remarked, pleased her voice stayed steady.  “Guen’s a bit more docile than I am.  You think she won’t dig her heels in if I decide to go along with your arrangement?”

She had expected this to be a stumbling block but to her amazement, Anarky grinned.

“I think you’ll find I rather like both sides of you.  Split personality or not, both Wraith and Guen, you’re two equal parts of one whole.  It’s a very intriguing yet balanced contrast you share.  I find it fascinating.”

Wraith opened her mouth and shut it again.  She was at a loss for words.  Guen too was stunned speechless, she knew.  Nobody had ever said something like that before.  Maybe Two-Face once had insinuated something to that effect, but it wasn’t the same.

_It’s like he’s seeing and acknowledging us both as separate, but also viewing us as one person at the same time,_ Guen thought after a moment, as though trying to solve another of Ed’s stupid riddles and finally realizing the answer.

_But, nobody’s ever done that before._  Wraith’s train of thought was as much for herself as it was a response to her alter.  A mix of puzzled emotions rose in her.  This was new and strange.

“Besides,” Anarky said, “I think you’ll find that I can be quite the charmer when you get to know me a bit more personally.”

Wraith snorted.  “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Trust me, you’ll see,” he said with a wink.  “Just give my proposition some thought, will you?”

And before she could work out any sort of response, he strode away.  Without another word, he drew a grappling hook from his silver belt, fired it at a nearby rooftop, and jumped from the building.  His timing couldn’t have been better, because a second later the door to the roof opened to admit Detective Yin.

“We’re done, you can come back now,” she announced.  A second later she frowned as she looked at Wraith, taking in the winged woman’s expression and posture.  “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she answered, her eyes trailing to follow Anarky just as he lept from the other roof and vanished from sight.  “Yeah, I think so.”

***

A heavy silence had fallen over the Riddler’s hideout hours ago, long after Aaron, Codi and Jadis had all scuttled off.  Rook had attempted to hang around for a while, but when the continued lack of any real conversation indicated Riddler’s grouchy mood, Rook too had slipped away.  Now only Phantom was left in the office with him and she was feeling restless.  It was rare for her to be left completely alone with Mr. Nygma for this long a stretch of time, and the silence was making her uneasy.

Habit spurred her into motion.  She would walk from one corner of the room to another, wait there for several moments, and then move again.  She would crouch, shift her posture, check her gun holsters, adjust her mask, or push back her hair.  All the while she managed to focus her attention on either the door or the ventilation shafts, the two points of entry to the room, but her restlessness found ways in which to make itself evident.  Not that she was entirely aware of it, at least until it was pointed out to her.

“Is something wrong, Kaina?” Riddler asked abruptly.  She jumped, startled.  Her cheeks grew hot, partially from shame and partially from something else entirely.  Mr. Nygma was the only employer she ever had who bothered to learn and remember her given name.  Her stomach tied itself in knots whenever he said her name, and her heartbeat quickened its pace.

It felt good to be seen as a person and not just a hired accessory.

“Sorry,” she answered, shaking her head.  “Nervous habit.”

“Ah.” His tone softened sympathetically.  “I can understand that.”  He paused for a moment in thought and then said something she had never expected to hear.  “Why don’t you sit down?”

He couldn’t see her eyebrows rise behind her mask, but she couldn’t help her surprise.

“Me?  Sit down?”

“Yes.  You are company and I could use someone to talk to.”

She hesitated, her insides squirming in a mildly pleasant way.  After a moment she crossed the room and took the other chair nearest the desk.  This prompted Edward to grin and launch into a prepared set of riddles, mostly to see if Kaina could solve them.  She wasn’t sure she could, at least not right away, and in any event she was more so just enjoying his company.

It _really_ felt good to be seen as a person, especially a person with value.


	6. No Call Forwarding

When several women associated with the “Rogues Gallery” of Gotham City convened in one spot, a great many things sprang to mind, and usually not positive things either.  What really stuck out in Detective Ellen Yin’s mind though, was how flipping _conspicuous_ they all were.  First, even without as much face time on the local news as some of the bigger-named criminals, it felt like it should be obvious who these women were.  This frustration was only amplified by the fact they made no effort to conceal their identities.  True, Ms. Pendragon was a rather unique case, but the woman known as Erin Knightly—soon to be Erin Tetch if the rumors proved true—didn’t even _bother_ to wear something other than the same Alice In Wonderland get-up that was apparently part of her tea shop's uniform.

Secondly—and a great deal _more_ bothersome—was the fact that the detective couldn’t _do_ anything about it.  Six women together, almost all of them implicit in multiple crimes, and she couldn’t do anything except sip at her smoothie and sit on her hands.  More than once she had to take deep breaths and whisper aloud “remember why you’re here, Yin.”  After all, she wasn’t there to bust and cuff rogues who weren’t doing anything.  She was present as Guen Pendragon’s handler, having granted the younger woman this opportunity after some discussion.  And technically none of these individuals were committing a crime.

_Yet,_ the detective’s mind added cynically.

Still, as she watched the conversation from a handful of tables away, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat sad whenever she looked at Pendragon.  The kid never asked for a burden to be added to her load, and it was probably hard to have minimal contact with her support group of friends.  But, Yin had to remind herself, Guen’s probation and restrictions were the consequences of her own poor choices.  That at least helped to keep Yin’s human sympathy and professional attitude separate.  So, working on balancing the two, she continued to watch in silence as she sipped on that smoothie, wondering what exactly would come next.

***

Dead silence hung over the table following Guen’s pronouncement.  She waited for a long moment, watching the stunned faces of her five friends as they stared at her.  Unsurprisingly Banshee and Magpie were the ones to break the silence.

“You’re preggers?!” Vanessa gasped in horror as Akira practically bellowed “you got _knocked up?!_ ” loud enough the entire block might have heard.  Guen winced, tensing her wings and shutting her eyes.  She should have expected as much from those two but even so, even knowing both girls were just giving honest responses… They were both very unfiltered under normal circumstances, so why should something like this be any different?

_Because it is,_ she told herself defensively.

“Oh.  Oh geez!”  Vanessa said guiltily.  “Sorry, love.”

“Forgiven,” Guen answered in an exhale, trying to relax.  “I...know this is huge news and I knew it’d be quite a bomb to drop.”

“Well doll, you could have told us sooner, you know,” May added in, sounding a touch defensive herself.  “Or at least me, at any rate.  We could be good emotional support for one another.”

Guen looked at her eldest friend, whose hand was casually resting upon her already significant midriff.  She winced again; May had a point there.  She could have at least brought it up to her before.  Why _hadn’t_ she?

_Because I’m stubborn,_ Wraith remarked, before adding in a much smaller voice, _And because we were both afraid._

It was true.  She _was_ afraid, completely afraid of what was yet to come.

“Alright, alright; hold on, ladies,” Erin declared in a voice of authority as she stood up from her seat.  Resting one hand on Guen’s right shoulder, she addressed the table at large.  “This is a huge deal, and Guen deserves nothing less than our unflinching support.  I think we can all agree on that, right?”

A murmur of assent swept through their number, heads bobbing in confirmation to varying degrees.  Guen looked down at her hands folded in her lap, unsure how she should respond.  Her own emotions were mixed enough as it was, and all she had in her brain that wasn’t emotionally-charge was the thought that the weather was a bit warmer than usual for Gotham.  That, and the base of her right wing was starting to itch a little.  Maybe she could convince Erin to scratch it for her.

“I don’t think anyone was suggesting she didn’t have it,” May remarked.  “But yes, I do think we can all agree on that.”

This was met with another round of nods, and someone suddenly gave Guen’s left forearm a gentle squeeze.  Surprised, she looked up and met Ink’s gaze.  It was odd to see her normally cheerful, bubbly friend so subdued, but after Guen had finally said the words she’d been holding in for months Ink had gone very quiet.  Flashes of worry, compassion and slight confusion warred on the blonde woman’s face as she watched Guen, still holding onto her arm.  Guen worked a tiny, fleeting smile onto her face, mouthing a thank-you.

“I think we can all also agree that a certain person isn’t coming within five hundred feet of Guen any more before we kill him,” May added viciously, receiving startled looks from all of them.  “And I won’t be challenged on that.”

“Cor,” Vanessa murmured.  “She’s a regular Mummy Wolf, isn’t she?”

“Pregnancy hormones,” Akira whispered to her friend, still looking wary.

“Yes, well,” Erin said, smiling in a way that said let’s-switch-the-subject-right-now and resuming her point.  “Love and unflinching support.  And that being the case—” she turned and faced Guen directly.  “I am here to take you out for spa days and massages and all the girl’s day out days you could ever want!”

“Uh, thanks Erin?” Guen blinked, a bit thrown off by this proclamation.  It was a sweet and very Erin Knightly thing to do, but it was also probably the last thing she would have expected to hear at this discussion.

“Hey!” Vanessa suddenly spoke up, eyes bright.  “What if we all chipped in a bit to help you get some of the things you’ll need for the baby?”

“Well… um... “ Guen hesitated.  Now this had been closer to what she’d been hoping to hear, but knowing her friends, “chipping in” was likely to entail obtaining necessities through less-than-legal means.  And with Detective Ellen Yin nearby, that was something she preferred not to openly advertise.

Not to mention the added uncertainty she’d neglected to speak up about.  After all, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to _keep_ the baby.  If even Wraith had felt strongly about it one way or the other she may have already made a decision, but her other personality remained just as torn as she did.

“No taking ‘but’ for an answer here, doll,” May said, mistaking her silence for reluctance.  “If I must endure well-meaning gifts and a baby shower I _specifically didn’t ask for_ , then you’re going to go through it with me.”

“Er, um,” Guen stuttered a second, thrown again for a loop.  “Uh, thanks May… I think.”

“Ooh!”  Erin gave a small squeal and her eyes lit up, having zeroed in on only one part of that exchange.  “Another baby shower?”

“You are _not_ in charge of planning any baby showers for me,” Guen said quickly, trying to suppress her growing horror.  That was _all_ she needed, a Wonderland-themed baby shower.  A secondary, equally horrifying thought followed that one and she turned to Akira and Vanessa, quickly adding, “And neither are you two.”

“Didja see us saying anything?”  Akira grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Guen,” Erin began in tones of great patience.  “You’re not supposed to plan your own baby shower and we wouldn’t let you anyway.  It’s a celebration of new life about to enter the world; there will need to be pastel, baby-friendly colors.  Knowing you, you’d pick a depressing, abandoned house gussied up for a Goth poetry reading.”

The winged woman shot her the most annoyed, withering look she could manage before choosing to ignore the jibe.  “Well then, that leaves Ink and May,” she said pointedly.  Ink, who would normally jump at the possibility of helping to organize a party, tried to muster up an apologetic smile and shook her head.  May rolled her eyes and gave a snort.

“ _Please_ ,” she said, whipping out her phone and scrolling through something on it.  “I know people we can hire to organize that _for_ us.  It’ll save everyone some headache.”

“Everyone among the six of you, you mean,” a new voice cut in, and all of them jumped, promptly spinning about to look at Detective Yin.  “Any event you hold—even a baby shower—has to pass my screening first.  Furthermore, I will be monitoring and regulating such parties to ensure nobody gets any _entrepreneuring_ ideas.”

May gave her a rather wry, sour look.  “If you wanted an invitation, all you had to do was ask,” she said acidly.  Yin’s eyebrows narrowed.  She definitely didn’t find the joke amusing and Guen tensed almost involuntarily.  The conversation hadn’t been leaning in her favor for a while now, and she was quite ready for something to break in and make waves.

Abruptly her phone started to ring, a shrill tone she hadn’t heard all that often.  With a small jump, she whipped it out of her pocket and looked at the display, feeling uneasy to see “NUMBER BLOCKED” greeting her.  Yin immediately leaned in, frowning.

“Riddler again?” she asked, sounding tense.  Guen shook her head carefully, skin going clammy as she gripped the phone.

“No, he uses specially programmed burn phones, from what I understand,” she answered, giving another start when the shrill tone sounded again.  She glanced to the detective, who gave a slow nod and mouthed “speaker” before glancing at the other women and making shushing gestures.  Swallowing nervously, Guen’s hand hovered over the speaker function as she accepted the call.  “Hello?”  she answered in what she hoped was pleasant-sounding confusion, turning on the speakerphone.  There was a pause and then the last voice she was expecting greeted her.

“Salu _tations_ , Miss Pendragon!”

Her spine went rigid as her feathers spread out, and Wraith switched places with her almost reflexively.

“Anarky,” she said tensely.  “Why are you calling?  How the hell did you get my number?  What do you want?”

All around the table the others tensed, their expressions going dark, and Yin tossed her a questioning look she ignored.

“My, you’re so chatty today,” Anarky didn’t sound at all daunted.  “Your dangerously attractive voice is a delight as always, Wraith.  Do you care for me to answer your questions in any specific order?”

She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, dumbstruck at his blatant attempts at flirting with her.   _Man, he doesn’t give up.  Guess I’ve got to give him credit for persistence._

Taking another second to compose herself she replied, “Second question.  How the hell did you get my number?”

“Trade secret,” he replied, infuriatingly cheerful.

“That’s not an answer!” she snapped.

“It is, just simply one you don’t care for,” he shot back smoothly.  “And I believe I already told you before what I want.”

She frowned.   _That alliance you spoke of, I know,_ she said to herself.  She still didn’t quite understand why he played up the flirtation, and whether or not he could really lead her to Arty Pendragon’s killer, but he seemed to believe he could.  On that at least she was still considering giving him a chance.  Not to mention _someone_ would have to keep Gary in line if the robotics expert agreed to that alliance too.

There was of course, one last question she wanted answered.

“So then why exactly are you calling?  I doubt you just want a casual chat so we can flirt,” she demanded testily.

“No, I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone that, lovely as it sounds,” he replied smoothly, his tone indicating he was quite interested.  “I’m in something of a dilemma, you see.  Impulsive behavior often has some… chaotic consequences.”  He paused for a moment, possibly to allow her a chance to comment, but when she wasn’t forthcoming with an opinion he resumed speaking.  “I took it upon myself to liberate a sizable missile from one of the Joker’s safehouses.”

Wraith’s eyes widened.  There was no way he was serious…

“What?!”  Yin demanded in a steely voice as her nostrils flared.  Wraith stiffened, suppressing a frustrated exhale.

“And finally the detective chimes in!” Anarky said.  He sounded about as eager as a kid waiting up on Christmas Eve for Santa.

“Only a madman would steal an air-to-surface missile!” she practically roared in response.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Anarky clicked his tongue.  “So quick to judge the actions of another.  Thinking like that, it’s small wonder the police have been reduced to trained lap dogs serving a corrupt chain of power.  Besides, weren’t you _listening_?  The Joker had it stashed in one of his bolt-holes.”

“Then I amend my previous statement,” Yin growled.  “Only a madman steals from another madman, especially _that_ madman!”

“Mad I may be,” he replied, “but that’s beside my current point.  You see, I was hoping Miss Pendragon would help me reign in my impulse control and decide exactly what I’m doing with this thing.”

Wraith made a small noise of shock.  He wanted her to help him make a decision about a weapon, and one he stole from Joker at that?  Last she checked she was only ever the decisive one for Guen, and even that was something she had struggled with as of late.  What was this guy _thinking_?   _Was_ he thinking, for that matter?

“My help?  You want my help,” she said flatly.  “Are you serious?”

“Quite,” he replied.  “Sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping you would consent to meeting me in person to decide exactly what I’m going to do with this thing.”

All seven of the women exchanged suspicious glances.  The same unpleasant possibility had sprung to mind for each of them, but it would be unwise to voice it with Anarky listening in.  Wraith drummed her fingers against the surface of the table, trying to organize her thoughts.

“Why in-person?” she asked cautiously.  “We’re talking over the phone like, right now.”

“A valid point,” he agree.  “But how can you tell just over a phone conversation that I’m taking anything you say to heart?  It’s all too easy to fake sincerity when one only has a voice to go off of.  For all you know, I could be trying to figure out how to arm this missile as we speak.”

“So basically you guarantee nothing unless I’m right there with you,” Wraith said dryly, speaking mostly to prevent Yin from making any unhelpful remarks.

“I don’t guarantee anything even then,” Anarky replied smoothly.  “Where would the fun in that be?”

“By _that_ logic,” Yin snapped, jumping in regardless of Wraith’s attempts to signal her to shut up, “she may as well just hang up and do nothing!”

“ ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing’,” Anarky declared.  “The ball is in your court.”

“Hold on just a second,” Wraith said, switching the phone to mute for a few seconds as she digested his words.  Slowly she turned and frowned at Yin, who scowled back.  “Don’t you get what he’s saying, Yin?  If I don’t go talk him out of whatever the hell he’s thinking about doing, then he’s definitely going to do it.  If I do go, then we have a shot at maybe convincing him to surrender the missile to the police.”

Yin’s eyebrows narrowed even further.  “Taking a bit of a gamble on that, aren’t you?  You do get that you’d be walking right into a trap, Pendragon.”

“I don’t think we really have a lot of choice here if you want to keep your city safe, do we detective?”

“No,” Yin replied, standing back and crossing her arms with a grim resolve.  “Just wanted to be sure we were on the same page.”

Wraith nodded, attempting a humorless smile as a look of understanding passed between them.  There had never been a moment of doubt in either of their minds about the end course of action.  This sparked the sudden realization for the winged rogue that this was how they worked together.   _This_ was what a criminal informant and their handler did, how they would take on cases as a team.  Once again the idea of possibly staying on with the G.C.P.D. after her probationary period was over didn’t sound half-bad.

“But Wraith—!” Erin protested.  Wraith glanced at her, promptly looking away without meeting her eyes, and unmuted the phone.

“Sorry, had to deliberate for a second,” she said loudly.  After another second of silence she asked, “You still there?”

“Oh yes, I quite understand,” he answered.  “However, since the opportunity presents itself, I have a stipulation to add on.  You’re not allowed to bring any of your lady friends along for the trip.”

“ _What?!_ ” Akira barked in outrage.

“Bugger!  How did he know?!” Vanessa hissed.  Erin paled and clamped her mouth shut while May leaned in, her face thunderous.  Ink shifted in her seat and glared at the phone, the black fluid beginning to pump alarmingly fast from her right eye.  Wraith looked around at all of them, skin feeling clammy as she tried to think fast.  These were her closest friends, who had already proved time and again they had her back.

And as she realized that, her decision was made.

“Alright, deal,” she said, and promptly ignoring the scandalized protests, she added, “But Detective Yin is my handler.  If she wants to shadow me with a full squadron, that’s out of my hands, pal.”

“Now that I have no objections to,” he said.  “The G.C.P.D. is predictable like that anyway, so I doubt it could be avoided.  Shall I take it then that you’re ready to come find me and chat face-to-face?”

“Psh, I was _born_ ready.”

“Then I’ll text you the details.  See you soon, Wraith.”

A second later the call ended and a tense quiet descended around the table.  Wraith kept her eyes on the phone, waiting for the inevitable lecture to burst out of someone.  Finally it was Akira who erupted.

“Woman, does bein’ pregnant make you _stupid_?  I _know_ ya’ll cray-cray but seriously?!  The hell, Wraith?!” she snapped.  Making a wild gesture at Yin, she added, “Sherlock’s got it right, you’re probably takin’ bait!  This smells like it’s got ‘trap’ written all over it!”

“Sherlock?” Yin muttered as Wraith said, “Yeah, so?”

“ ‘So’?” Nessa echoed, half-choking in disbelief.  “You’re _pregnant_ , mate.   _That’s_ what.  You go charging in there, you’re risking serious injury.”

“I’ll be careful,” Wraith protested a little defensively.  “Hell, I’ll leave Guen in charge; you know she’ll be cautious.”

“That’s not all there is to it, though,” Ink said, sounding rather grim and on-edge.  “The last time you walked into a trap like this…”

She fell quiet and the mood was infectious.  Everyone knew what had happened the last time Guen decided to willingly walk into a situation she knew was a trap.  And Wraith knew better than anyone else; it was the _last_ thing she wanted to be reminded of.  Her shoulders hiked up, going level with her ears as her wings started to unfurl, the feathers spreading wide.

_Don’t think about it,_ Guen murmured at the back of her thoughts.   _I don’t want to remember.  Not here, not while we’re in relative safety.  I don’t want to break down.  We can’t afford to be that vulnerable, not yet._

Wraith was starting to ready a response when her phone gave a small chime with an incoming test.  Unnerving as it was to see no origin number for the message, the distraction came as a relief.  She made a mental note to thank Anarky for his timing later before she stopped to consider the matter.

“I promise all of you that I won’t let anything happen to Pendragon,” Yin said stoutly as Wraith’s eyes scanned over the address in the text without totally processing it.

“Oh right,” Nessa muttered, looking unimpressed.  “Forgot the standard-issue babysitter.”

“You five aren’t allowed to tag along, remember?” Yin said firmly as her eyes swept over the others.  “You could jeopardize the entire thing.  I’ll make sure she’s safe.  It’s _my_ duty, not yours.  You may be her friends, but I’m an officer, _and_ her personal handler.”

Wraith had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at this.  Frankly she didn’t think Vanessa’s remark was too far removed from the reality of the situation.  She half-expected one of her friends to immediately argue the point, yet was relieved when May spoke up, deceptively calm in a resigned way.

“You know what, ladies?  She’s right.”

“What?!”  The squawk of indignation came from Akira, who whirled about to face her older friend.  “You ain’t serious—!”

“The detective has spoken.  Besides, you heard Anarky’s terms,” May said, spreading her hands helplessly.  “Officially we can’t do anything.  Officially, our hands are tied.”

Wraith watched quietly, impressed yet again with her friend’s poker face.  You had to hand it to May Markowitz, she was a professional.  Glancing between her other friends, the winged woman caught the small glints of comprehension that rapidly gave way to uniform, vacant stares.  In Erin’s case a vague smile accompanied the stare, and Wraith was willing to bet she was already cooking up an idea of some sort.  Still it almost seemed too obvious and surely Yin was bound to notice the exchange.  Thankfully though, Ness and Akira played the part well and made a few more emphatic protests for show.

“Sorry girls,” Wraith sighed, shrugging with both her shoulders and her wings.  “Maybe next time.”

“We’ll see about that.”  Yin grumbled crossly as she started to head back to her car.  “Come on, Pendragon.  Let’s get that address plugged into the GPS; we don’t have any time to waste.”

This time she _did_ roll her eyes.  Pushing away from the table, she rose from her chair and tossed the others a wink on the sly.  “I’ll talk to you all afterward.”

“Of course,” Erin said in her dreamiest voice.  “We’ll all be having a cuppa at the tea shop.”

Translation, they would be lying in wait, pulling a “crouching tiger, hidden dragon” a la lady rogues.  Wraith exchanged a small nod with Ink and allowed herself a quick smirk before trotting off after Yin.  She was just a couple of feet behind the detective when the other woman addressed her.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch any of that little interchange,” Yin warned.  “Markowitz is smooth, but I don’t think the lot of you give me credit for my career.  Besides that, the two younger girls are practically open books, and don’t fool yourself that I’m not keeping an eye on Knightly, either.”

“Oh good, that’ll probably make her entire week,” Wraith remarked, grinning.  “Erin gets pretty freakin’ skeeved when people don’t take her seriously, so she’ll be flattered to hear that.”

Yin tossed her a flat glare but before either of them got another word in, Guen’s cell phone rang again.  This time it was a rather familiar ringtone, one that stopped Wraith in her tracks.  She whipped the cell back out to frown down at it and Yin slowed her stride, looking over her shoulder at the ringing device.

“Sounds like someone’s eager to get his two cents in,” she said with a bit of a snort as Wraith swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?” she greeted cautiously.  Truthfully she wanted to ask something along the lines of “why the frick-frack diddly-whack are you calling”, but she had a feeling that wouldn’t be well-received.  She waited for an answer and realized with a jolt of mild repugnance she could hear the Riddler breathing through his nose as he suppressed his temper.

“Tell me Guen, I’m curious about your recent phone call,” he said testily.  “What was that about?”

She was ready to sharply correct him with the reminder that _she_ was Wraith and he ought to know the difference between her and Guen by now.  However, her suspicion and annoyance at his demand made its way out first.

“How do you know about that?” she asked coolly.

“Answer the question, Guen,” he ordered, adding in a slightly more polite tone, “Please.”

“You first,” she said, holding back a growl.  That weak little apology he tacked on was an afterthought; she was willing to put money on that.  “Did you decide to bug my phone too?  Didn’t want the G.C.P.D. to be all alone in that hobby?”

“Hacked it,” he answered so dismissively as to not consider how controlling or creepy it sounded.  She fought the urge to rub the goosebumps on her arms as he kept talking.  “Who were you talking to?  We were only able to patch into the last minute and a half of the call.  Who was that?  What did he want from you?”

For a second she seethed quietly.  Of all the nerve—!  What right did he have?  This was borderline creepy and completely uncomfortable.  What, was he going to come up with the excuse that he was a worried helicopter boyfriend or something?  Fine.  He wanted to play this game?  Then she would make him sweat.

“Just someone who’s approached me before to talk about possibly becoming allies,” she said nonchalantly.

“So you think you’ll just bring someone into the fold without consulting me first?” he demanded.  “This is _my_ syndicate, Guen.”

“Which is of course, why it’s not necessary to consult me at all on everyone that you’ve brought on,” she said, careful to put the edge of implied accusation into her words.  “Besides, I never said he wanted an alliance with you or your syndicate.  I said he’s approached _me_.  He’s never once mentioned more beyond _me_ becoming his ally or partner or whatever.”

The silence was thick as her words sank in.  Finally the Riddler managed a strained, “Oh.   _Really?_ ”

“Yeah.  He called about something totally different this time—”

“ _This_ time?  He’s called you more than once?”

“This is actually the first time he’s _called_ ,” she clarified.  “Previously he’s just shown up in-person whenever he fancies it.”

“In-person,” Ed’s voice hissed out through his teeth as he parroted her.  “Who is he?”

“Don’t worry,” she replied in a sweetly dismissive voice of her own.  “Detective Yin and I are taking care of this.  It’s a case now.”

“Guen—” he started to say, but she moved the phone away from her ear and ended the call.  Blowing her breath out in exasperation, she looked up to find Yin staring at her with raised brows.

“What?” she asked irritably.

“Somehow I doubt that was the best way to carry the conversation,” Yin remarked, folding her arms.  “Sounds to me like the two of you have some issues to work out in your relationship.”

_Are you happy, Guen?_

_How do you know Nygma is your Lancelot and not your Arthur?_

“Yeah?” Wraith snarled.  “Tell me something I _don’t_ know.”  Huffing, she stomped past the detective and straight to the car.  After a second she called back loudly, “Well?  You coming with, or what?  No time to waste, remember?”


	7. A Matter Of Life, Chaos, And Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be a much longer chapter, but I wound up splitting it into two separate ones. This is technically up on deviantART and other locations as Chapter 7A. I still consider it to be part A and the next to be part B, but eh, take it as you will.

Ed was furious, positively livid at having had the call cut off.  A part of him rationalized it was probably inevitable; Yin the guard dog would have interrupted before long anyway, as was per her prerogative.  Yet some gormless, shameless nobody was trying to contact _his_ woman, trying to circumvent honor between rogues and ignore _him_?  Some _nobody_ thought themselves important enough to ignore him and come onto his Guen?

He sat down before his monitor, fingers striking the keyboard violently in his mounting irritation.  The worst part about all of this was that Guen hadn’t said a word.  This cheeky, full-of-himself novice, whoever he was, had approached her multiple times now.  Clearly he was persistent and considered Edward Nygma, The _Riddler_ , to be of no consequence.

“I’ll show him,” he muttered furiously, running a scan on the call, hoping to backtrace the mysterious caller’s point of origin.  “Thinks he can pull one over on The Riddler?  Arrogant troglodyte!  I’m the _greatest_ mind in Gotham City!”

“Uh?  Boss?” Codi prompted from her spot in the room.

“Are… you okay?” Aaron asked, hesitant.

He didn’t have time to explain himself to a couple of teenagers, regardless of their relationship to him.  In fact, he wasn’t even obligated to.  Still, they had practically volunteered themselves by speaking up, so he might as well put them to work.

“Codi, come here,” he barked, snapping his fingers and pointing to one of the secondary computers.  “Run a GPS trace on Guen’s phone.  Aaron, I want you to fetch Phantom,  Phoenix, and C.G.  We’re going to mobilize.”

The two teens exchanged a look behind his back before Aaron rolled his eyes and walked out.  Moments later Codi sat near him, a stormy expression on her face as she went at the keyboard.  For a moment Edward paused and regarded her with a measure of pride, assuming her dark expression was a reflection of his own anger.   _She_ was his chosen one, his hand-picked protégé who would one day carry on the legacy of The Riddler.  True, the boy had potential as well and in time he would make an excellent contingency plan, but this girl was the one.

The only way she could have been more perfect were if she had been his and Guen’s own daughter by blood.

As it stood, he could already tell she liked Guen, and the feeling seemed mutual enough from the other’s standpoint.  That was a good start, a very good start.  Maybe in time Mystery would set to rest Guen’s petty irritations about the syndicate.  The two would be good for one another, he was certain of it.  And that meant it would be even better for him.

***

“Are you sure about this, boss?”

He didn’t answer right away, absorbed in tinkering with the missile.  Anything he did with this was going to have to be very carefully executed, regardless of what direction things took.  However, his silence must have been unsettling, because they weren’t finished.

“Not that we’re questioning your plan or anything Mr. Anarky sir.  We just… wanna know why you told the chick with the wings she could bring along the cops.”

Finally he turned back to his two cohorts, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.  “Oh, boys,” he huffed in a sigh.  “In this case it’s best to let the police think they won’t meet resistance.”

“But aren’t we gonna resist them?” Tucker asked, clearly confused by the counterintuitive declaration.  ‘Junkyard Dog’, he was called.  Next to him, Daedalus nodded.  ‘Doodlebug’ was often the nickname he received, though he preferred being addressed by his proper name.  Beneath his mask, Lonnie regarded them with a twinge of pity and regret.

They trusted him.  They believed in Anarky.  Before, they’d just been petty street thugs, boys who had grown up in The Narrows with very little to their names.  Even the police hadn’t given them basic human respect, dismissing the two as nothing but attention-seeking troublemakers.  When Lonnie had first approached them as Anarky and mentioned wanting to employ them, he had been surprised to learn that on some level the police weren’t far from the truth.  Daedalus and Tucker wanted respect but they threw their loyalty behind Anarky once he had shown them compassion and given them a place to stay.  Treating them as people and giving them attention had won him a level of loyalty from both men that Lonnie wasn’t sure he deserved.

_What would you both think if I showed you the real me?_

The sense of shame and regret deepened as he thought about the fierce winged woman and how readily and openly she had spoken to him as just Lonnie.  He pushed the feelings aside quickly, shoving them to the back of his mind.  Breaking character would be unwise.

“Well, that is the aim, my dear Junkyard Dog, but sometimes it’s smarter to pretend to do the opposite,” he answered, clasping his hands behind his back as he trekked down the steps to meet them.

“You mean like fake ‘em out,” Daedalus remarked.  “Like the Trojan guys and their wooden horse.”

“Greeks, actually,” Lonnie corrected patiently.  “The Greeks made the horse and gave it to the Trojans as a trap.  Your analogy is on-target otherwise.”

“Wait, if some Greek dudes made it, why isn’t it called the Greek horse?”

He tried with all of his might _not_ to rub his temples in frustration.  If he ever came clean with them, the next thing he was going to do for Daedalus and Tucker was give them a shot at proper education.  “A question to talk about another time,” he answered.  “For now, we should prepare for our guests.”  He looked to them, hoping they would catch on to the importance of the task, and saw them exchange a nervous look.  “Worried, boys?”

Tucker glanced away and chewed on his lower lip, rubbing one of his bulky forearms uncertainly.  More than once he started to say something but continued to stop short, as though he couldn’t trust himself to speak.  Not surprisingly it was Daedalus who answered.

“Please don’t get mad,” he began.  “It’s not that we ain’t with you on this.  We are, we ain’t gonna ditch ya, boss.  But the cops—”

He gave a small hum of understanding and nodded.

“Your apprehension is completely forgivable, Daedalus.  After all, a system created to help the common man that becomes so easily corrupt and misguided so as to go against its intended purpose cannot be trusted,” he remarked thoughtfully.  “That is to say, the police are meant to be law enforcement, to protect and serve.  But you two have been discriminated against thanks to the police, ever since you were young.  Why would you trust those people not to immediately pull guns and cuffs on you, even if you weren’t working with me?”

“Yeah man, exactly!” Tucker confirmed, bolstered into relative confidence again, if only marginally.

“Yeah!” Daedalus agreed emphatically before hesitating.  “Boss, this is all part of the plan, right?  You- you won’t let the cops take us, will ya?”

Lonnie shook his head, smiling mirthlessly behind the mask.

“I will do all within my power to ensure it doesn’t come to that,” he promised.  “But in the event the situation starts to degenerate, there is a trapdoor to a lower storage cellar.  It’s beneath those crates—” he pointed, making sure both of them knew where he was indicating, “right there.  If you slip down there, there should be an underground tunnel.  Follow it and you should eventually come out in the cellar of a building near some smaller mom-and-pops stores near the apartment neighborhoods.  I can catch up with you later if that happens.”

“Boss?”

There was uncertainty in the word, puzzlement.  Inwardly Lonnie hissed at himself.  He was starting to slip out of character again; they hardly expected Anarky to care about them personally.  He turned and gave them a sharp look, doing his best to distract from the momentary slip.

“And in the meantime, no stealing or vandalizing those shops.   _Got it?_ ”

They flinched back, intimidated by the sudden revert to normal, but nodded obediently anyway.  He leaned back, satisfied there wouldn’t be an issue where they were concerned.  But it didn’t end there; evidently Daedalus still had a question on his mind.

“Boss?  Is this about the one chick with the wings?”

He lifted his brows beneath the mask.  Evidently the boys could be more astute than even they gave themselves credit for.

“I just, y’know, I figured since you were tryin’ so hard to get her to come here,” he said with a bit of a helpless shrug.  The more he tried to look Anarky in the eye, the more he lost momentum on what he was trying to say.  Finally he turned to his best friend, giving Tucker a thump on the arm.  “Come on man, _you_ say something!”

The other fidgeted hesitantly and finally got around to spitting out what was on their minds.  “We don’t really know anything about it boss, but I mean, if you want to ask a girl out… couldn’t you just ask her?”

“What?”  The word slipped out of his mouth in surprise.  That was the absolute last thing he would have expected from the two of them.  “You think this is about asking her to go out with me?”

They nodded, looking quite serious, and he took a second to think of what he could possibly say.  Really, it was a struggle.  He wanted to talk about anything else.  The cops would be here soon with Miss Pendragon.  Obviously that was a concern for the hired help; why couldn’t they keep discussing _that_?  The volatile missile was of equal concern; why couldn’t they discuss _that_?

“This is about securing her as an ally,” he finally declared.  “I’m not trying to ask her out.  Nothing about this remotely screams anything about attraction or romantic interest.”

Tucker made a skeptical expression and Daedalus fixed him with a flat stare.  They didn’t buy it.  Heck, Lonnie wasn’t sure if he believed himself.

“Yeah okay, whatever you say,” Daedalus consented with a slow nod, his disbelief still evident in his voice.  Lonnie quelled his irritation; it would do him no good and besides, the boys would learn once they saw everything unfolding what the plan was.  They would understand this was about gaining an ally, nothing more.

Except there was still a detail that was bothering him, one he couldn’t identify.  It felt as though he was overlooking something very important.  So what in the name of all things sacred was it?  This was going to keep bothering him until he figured it out.

Turning away from the other two, he went back up the stairs to resume working on the missile.  He would fret over the forgotten details later when he had more idle time.

***

“Does it always feel this tense?”

“Does what always feel how tense?”

Wraith gestured spasmodically with her hands.

“You know, _this_ ,” she emphasized.  “Heading to catch a dangerous rogue.  Preparing to save the city from major crap or else die trying.  God, it’s like I’m freaking terrified but I’m excited about it too!  I feel jittery, it’s like I can’t sit still.  Is it always like this, Yin?”

The detective glanced at her briefly as she drove through the streets, following the coordinates the GPS was spitting out at her.  Wraith watched, recognizing there was tension in the other woman’s frame as she eyed the road ahead resolutely.

“I need you to focus, Miss Pendragon.  We shouldn’t take this lightly.  This isn’t some guts-and-glory fight ring where you’re going to brawl,” Yin admonished her coolly.

Wraith crossed her arms and affected a childish sulk.  “I _know_ that.  I’m not ignorant, you know.  And I’m perfectly aware this isn’t some thrill ride.”

Yin turned as the GPS led her onto a side street.  They had already crossed over one of Gotham Bay’s bridges into Midtown not long ago, and were heading toward what appeared to be the R. H. Kane building.  Wraith was given a second of pause.  Was _that_ where Anarky was hiding out?  No, there was no way he could have snuck an air-to-surface missile into someplace like the Kane building without being noticed.  The G.C.P.D. would have already heard about it if he had made such an attempt.

“You swear you’re taking this seriously?” Yin asked, snapping Wraith out of her thought.

“Yeah, I am,” she replied solemnly before looking out the window again and wondering.  Yin must have realized she had something on her mind, because in the next moment she dropped the authoritarian tone.

“What is it?  You see something?” she inquired.  “I know the report says you’ve got some kind of binocular raptor vision.”

“Something like that,” Wraith answered carefully, frowning.  “Yin, the location Anarky sent… it’s not the Kane building, is it?”

The detective shook her head as she slowed to a stop at an intersection.  “Mm-mm.  The building is privately owned and even if it weren’t, security would flag anything suspicious.  It looks like the GPS map is going to put us a few blocks away at a storage warehouse.”  She resumed driving, turning to Wraith to give her a quick, inquisitive look.  “Why?  You feel like something’s up?  Possible connection to the Kane family or something like that?”

“Not really.  Nothing solid, anyway.  I just feel like it’s probably not a coincidence that Anarky’s hiding out in the shadow of the Kane building.  Maybe it’s significant somehow.”

Yin’s frown deepened notably.  “It could be a potential target for the missile if the sites weren’t as close together as they are.  He launches that thing into the Kane building from where he’s at, there’s no telling what could happen.”

“But is he the kind of guy who’s going to care about that?”

“I think we’re going to find out,” Yin answered tightly.  She paused a moment before adding, “To answer your original question, yes.”

“Say what?” Wraith asked, temporarily thrown.

“How it feels tense before doing something like this?  If it’s always a mixed bag of anticipation?” Yin slowed down as they neared their destination and looked at her for a long moment.  “Yeah, it is.  For me it always has been.”

Wraith offered her a small smile, finally feeling a measure of camaraderie for the detective.  Yin brought the car to a stop, parking and throwing her seatbelt off as she glared at the storage warehouse dozens of yards away.  Wraith took a steadying breath and got out of the car with her.

_Alright, here we go.  Gonna try to talk a potentially insane guy out of launching a missile into the city.  A Joker-missile that could probably kill hundreds of people.  Cool.  No pressure._

Behind them, more police vehicles started to arrive in the distance.  Wraith glanced over her shoulder to look for them, then redirected her attention to the warehouse.  Her feathers were beginning to puff somewhat involuntarily and she was flexing her fists at her sides without realizing it.

_I don’t like this,_ Guen’s voice remarked.   _Wraith, we’ve got to be careful.  I think there’s a good chance Anarky might launch that thing no matter what we say to him._

She rolled her shoulder a few times, trying to loosen up her tension.   _Won’t know until we try, right?_ she answered.  In truth however, she felt her other personality had a very valid concern.

The other cop cars got close enough she could hear them, and her palms and feet started to itch as she shifted her weight.  From the outside, the warehouse looked deserted but she felt distinctly like she was being watched.  She started to look a little more closely at the windows.  Could Anarky be watching them right now?

_Wouldn’t shock me if he was.  
_  
The sound of tires slowly crunching over the aging asphalt heralded the other cops parking all around them.  Car doors slammed and Wraith heard the clicking of multiple guns being drawn from holsters and armed.

“Establish a perimeter,” Yin ordered in a commanding tone, several officers darting past them.  “Any hostiles show themselves, I want you on it.  Avoid shooting if possible; we want suspects alive.  Nobody advances without my signal.  Our suspect is inside, presumed to have stolen an air-to-surface projectile originally modified by the Joker.  Be on the alert; the Joker might show up if he’s aware of this.  The missile is currently unarmed but proceed with caution.  There’s no telling what this madman might do.”

Wraith exhaled slowly, her hand twitching toward the compartment on her belt where she stored her collapsed scythe.

_Don’t,_ Guen’s voice warned.  F _or all we know, if you walk in there with that pulled out, he could assume we intend hostility and launch the missile._

Wraith gnashed her teeth in frustration.  Much as she didn’t like it, Guen had a solid point.

“Look,” she grumbled aloud so Yin could hear.  “I’ll do my best to play along and feign ‘nice’ for the sake of negotiations with this guy, but I’m keeping my hand within reach of my scythe.  Makes me feel a bit safer.”

The detective inclined her head in a show of concurrence, patting the piece in her harness to reassure she was thinking along the same lines.  Bracing themselves, the two women advanced to the nearest entrance to the warehouse.  Heart pounding, Wraith took a steadying breath as Yin indicated she should take the lead and open the door.  Gripping the latch tightly, she swung the handle of the door and carefully pushed inward.

Immediately her raptor senses kicked into high gear, warning there were others present, currently unseen.  Tucking her wings in tight to walk through the door, Wraith looked around and strained her ears to hear.  Weak afternoon sunlight, such as it could be called in Gotham City, filtered in through windows set high in the walls and made patchy holes in the gray-and-brown gloom of the cement building and the storage crates within.  She frowned, stepping cautiously in an effort to minimize her own noise.  There was nobody visible in her immediate range of vision and she heard faint noises, but had no idea what they were.

The door shut behind her with a noisy latch that echoed into the quiet, making her jump.  She spun about to give Yin a quick “what the actual _heck_ ” look and the detective responded with a flat stare.  For a brief second Wraith thought she heard a voice speak elsewhere in the building, but then it was drowned out by the sound of charging footsteps.  She and Yin both tensed, and the next second two figures came skidding around the corner path between two rows of crates.

It took her a second to recognize the two goons Anarky had had with him at the mall.  Now that she was able to get a better look at them she realized they were a lot younger than she had initially assumed.  The taller of the two had long, light-brown hair and a stocky build she was willing to bet was only partially puppy fat.  At a glance he looked like he was nineteen.  His buddy, a skinny African-American guy with the weirdest weave Wraith could ever recall seeing, looked like he might be twenty-two at the oldest.  Both were staring at her with something akin to shock and awe.

“Okay, _whoa_ ,” Weave Guy intoned.

“You actually showed up,” Stocky Guy finished the thought in amazement.  Wraith cocked an eyebrow at them.

“Uh, yeah,” she said with a slight snort.  “Kind of hard to turn down a call like that one.  So like, take us to your leader or— something.”

This seemed to snap them out of their stupor and Weave Guy nodded in what he must have thought was an important manner.

“Right,” he said, bobbing his head seriously.  “Anarky told us to come get you when we heard the door.  Follow me.  JD, you follow behind ‘em.”

He turned and started to swagger away, looking incredibly pleased with himself.  Stocky Guy darted around to walk behind the winged rogue and the detective, motioning for them to follow his friend.

“After you, ladies,” he said, doing his best to sound chivalrous.  Wraith could only shrug and start walking.  These ding-dongs weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed and she highly doubted they would pose much of a threat.  She heard Yin grumble and in seconds the detective was walking in step with her.  She was tempted to ask if Yin felt like they were being given top-notch fancy service, just for the sake of being problematic and irksome.

_Don’t,_ she heard Guen say again, this time with a tone bordering on parental.   _Tension’s already high.  Nothing good will come from prodding anyone’s temper._

Wraith rolled her eyes and made a small snort of irritation.  Trust her other self to spoil the fun.  She was preparing to sulk at Guen in response when she got the uneasy, skin-crawling sensation that someone was getting up in her personal space.  Shoulders hiking up, she twisted around and looked at Stocky Guy, who moved away quickly when he realized he’d been caught looking at her.

“Oh!  Uh… sorry,” he apologized, before looking at the same spot he had been before.  “So like… are those _real_ wings?”

Memories sped through her mind like lightning flashing.

_Syringes full of the mutagen T-99, ready for injection._

_Voices discussing the success rate of the surfacing mutations in the most recent batch of specimens._

_A sinister promise her wings would emerge soon._

_That damn chair again, watching it splinter and shatter before her brother Logann reached for her, promising her they would leave for safety as she fled that dark room without fully comprehending the fate she’d just escaped._

_Pain.  Blood staining the tiled bathroom floor as a tearing pain ripped through her back.  She trembled at newfound sensations being felt in the small limbs that had budded and fledged with feathers.  The kind and gentle hands of her foster mother, tenderly cleaning the damp wings on her back and whispering words of reassurance._

Primary and secondary feathers rustled as she closed her wings a bit tighter out of reflex, sucking in a slight breath as she dashed the thoughts away.

“Yeah,” she answered, keeping her voice as even as she could manage.  “They’re as real as it gets.”

His eyes widened with childlike wonder, and she was given to the sneaking suspicion he was easily impressed.  This was confirmed a moment later as he intoned, “Whoa, awesome!  That is so cool!”

“Well, I got them from a program that was trying to create hybrid super-mercenaries, after being kidnapped as a four-year-old and put through experimentation to turn me into an eagle mutant,” she replied with a bitter smile.  The guy’s face fell a bit.

“Oh, uh… so, _not_ cool then?” he amended.  Wraith gave him a noncommittal noise and looked forward as they entered a more open area of the warehouse.  Space had been cleared between the vast number of shipping crates, leaving an open area on the cement floor.  The reason for this wasn't obvious until Weave Guy came to a complete stop and looked up to a walkway above them.  Wraith and Yin also lifted their eyes, but the voice they’d been expecting to hear began speaking even before they saw him.

“Well, you accepted my invitation after all!  Welcome, ladies.  I must say, it’s an absolute delight to have you here!”

A rush of wild energy coursed through Wraith as she met Anarky’s masked gaze.  Adrenaline, she figured.  She was suddenly ready to fight again and she recalled with stark clarity how easily he had matched and countered her brief attacks during their very first encounter.  Her mind then immediately jumped to their most recent meeting and how quickly and comfortably he’d adapted to her.

_He kept pace with me both times,_ she concluded, feeling a small buzz of… was it gratitude?  Excitement?  Her palms itched and she flexed her fists, wondering if he could do it— would do it again.

“Anarky,” she replied politely, hoping her excitement didn’t show on her face.  Unfortunately it must have, because a broad grin was starting to split his mouth.

“Please forgive my associates their manners, as I’m sure they neglected to introduce themselves properly,” he remarked, pointing then to indicate them each in turn.  “Doodlebug and Junkyard Dog.”  He paused and quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask, smirking.  “I’m deeply flattered you have my name memorized by now though, Wraith.”

“Hard not to,” Yin stepped in, her voice tense with anger, “what with your threats to terrorize the entire city.  If you want the G.C.P.D.’s attention, you’ve got it, pal.”

The edge to her voice didn’t seem to worry or phase him in the slightest and he gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, sending a small ripple through the white cape he wore.

“It was hardly your attention I was after, but I’ll roll with whatever comes my way,” he remarked casually.  “It’s part of the beauty of allowing things to unfold as they will.”  He turned his attention away from the detective and back to the winged woman.  “Wraith.  You have my _extreme_ gratitude for answering my call for assistance.”

“Well, y’know,” she said with a shrug.  “It’s like my handler here said: kinda hard to ignore, especially if you stole this missile from Joker, of all the people in Gotham.”

The lips of his bone-white mask twitched upward into a smirk.  Without a word he crooked his fingers, gesturing for her to come up and join him as he turned away, walking along the upper floor.  Not seeing an immediate stairwell in sight, Wraith squinted at the floor above.  Jumping straight from where she stood would require her to leap just a little more than ten feet high, and it wasn’t some little hop she figured she could pull off casually, with or without wings.  But there were enough storage crates nearby…

“Wraith, what are you doing?” Yin demanded, quickly realizing she was up to something.  She didn’t bother with an answer but turned and ran right for the lowest crate, using her momentum to jump onto it and the crate next to it that stood higher.  Shifting her weight, she turned again and angled herself back toward the railing of the upper walkway.

“Wraith!” Yin barked.

She ignored the older woman and ran, spreading her wings open as she launched herself into the air.  Her heart raced with excitement for the brief moment she was airborne and then it nearly stopped as she reached the peak of the jump, stretching out her arms to grab for dear life onto the railing.  Metal burned against her palms as she swung her weight, bracing her feet against the edge of the walkway.

“ _Dude_!” Doodlebug and Junkyard Dog chorused below.

_Yep.  Definitely easily impressed._

The rail creaked ominously under the pull of her weight.  She extended her wings to their full horizontal span and with a strong downward flap, she used the momentum to pull herself up and swing over the rail, the muscles in her arms burning.  Planting her feet solidly, she looked toward Anarky, who had paused to turn and see what she was doing.  He looked a little surprised and, assuming she was reading his masked expression correctly, impressed as well.

“I’m a bit confused as to why you didn’t use the stairs,” he said.

_Because I didn’t see them, you ding-dong,_ she thought in annoyance.  What she did however, was roll her shoulders and shrug her wings.

“That was more fun,” she answered.  A second later she had to resist the urge to bite her lower lip.  Why the hell did she say that?  For his part, Anarky’s face broke into a wide grin.

“I just _knew_ you were a kindred spirit!” he crooned.  “Come with me.”

She glanced past him, the unmistakable shape of a missile just a few yards again.  Green-and-purple point marked the side of it, visible even from the angle she stood at.  She tensed again, skin going clammy.  He really wasn’t playing around, was he?  The metal floor clinked beneath their boots as she followed him, taking a deep inhale to brace herself.

“You actually stole a freaking missile,” she stated.

“You sound impressed,” he purred.  He came to stand before the missile’s side, looking at it proudly, and she stood next to him, looking it over.  A chilling grin also adorned the side of the bulky projectile.  As she studied it, Wraith felt like something was bothering her about it all.

“Okay, I’ll admit this is seriously ballsy, but how the heck did you steal something this big from the Joker without him noticing?” she asked, eyes running over the paint again, noting it seemed rather glossy.  She glanced to Anarky though he didn’t meet her gaze at all.

“With luck and loads of determination,” he answered just a tad too nonchalantly.  She bit down a remark; he was hiding something, that much was obvious.  But she needed to stop him from doing anything rash.  Taking note again of the missile, she chose a different question.

“So are you hiding a launch silo or something too?  Because right now, you don’t look exactly prepped to fire it up.  Unless you were never planning to launch it.”

“A very astute observation,” he remarked.  “I don’t have a launch silo on hand.  Trying to fire it as is, well…”  He gave her a look she could only assume was meant to be conspiratorial.  “That could get a little messy.”

She tensed automatically but for some reason she detected no immediate danger from him.  Again she found herself wondering if the whole thing was some elaborate bluff.  But why?  What reason would he have for pulling this stunt?

“You’d probably get freaking barbecued in the process, genius,” she said loudly and slowly.  “That’s a high risk to take for the sake of proving some point to the city.”

He stared into her eyes directly, all cheery showmanship dropped from his demeanor as his expression went utterly neutral.

“Aren’t some of the most powerful changes we make in the world always marked by high risk?” he asked her, his voice low and solemn.

She was momentarily stunned, caught off-guard by the question.  Again there was that weird sensation of déjà vu.  There was something extremely _familiar_ about Anarky.  She tried to shake off the fog of confusion and focus on answering him, pinching the bridge of her nose as she thought.

“Okay, point taken there, Disraeli-slash-Gandhi,” she concurred.  “So… what, you consider yourself an agent of change or something?”

“Absolutely!” he exclaimed, breathless with excitement.  “Have you ever seen a few of the Chinese characters for the word ‘chaos’, Wraith?  Do you know what they defined it as, in the time of Lao-Tse?”

“Uh… no?”she answered, doing a double-take.

“Chaos is ‘a constant unfolding of the absurd; life itself’.  Lao-Tse said the essence of chaos, of _anarchy_ , was spontaneity,” he explained, his voice oscillating between the fever-pitch of a fanatic and the resonant tones of a scholar.  “Chaos and life are inseparable, Wraith.  Human lives aren’t meant to be restrained in a cage of monotonous order governed by a select elite.  We are supposed to be the masters over our own destiny.  But we cannot experience the unrestrained freedom meant for humankind in order to reach our fullest potential as individuals if we’re _always_ allowing the corrupt elite of the government to bring their oppressive heel down on our necks.”

Anarky’s words rang powerfully in her ears and she was so swept up in listening to him talk she almost didn’t hear the faint clanking of Detective Yin ascending the unseen flight of stairs.  Everything he was saying made sense, in a way.  It took some thinking, but it sounded like he was onto something.

_Looking at it from an anarchist’s viewpoint, it makes a lot of sense,_ Guen chimed in thoughtfully.   _I’m going to hazard a guess he’s got some fixation or self-built philosophy on the idea of a system of anarchy.  President Kennedy said something about change being the law of life, and Churchill said something else about change and improvement going hand-in-hand.  Something like it, anyway.  I think somehow Anarky has married the two concepts together into that personal philosophy._

“So, let me get this straight,” Wraith addressed them both, rubbing her temples to ease the headache she felt building.  “You think you’re an agent of change and that in order to make a change to help all of Gotham City, that equals ‘down with the system?’”

Anarky let out a melancholy sigh.  “Well,” he said, “that’s a rather blunt way of disassembling the thought process but it sounds like you’ve got the drift.”  He folded his arms as she opened her eyes and frowned at her as though she’d challenged his point.  “You cannot deny that Gotham _needs_ a change.  Look at the filthy fat cats that run this city, taking what the common person has earned by the sweat of their brow and using it for their own selfish gain, rather than giving back to the people what they need!”  He unfolded his arms again and spread them wide as he paced along the walkway, caught up in his own fervor.  “Too many corrupt individuals have poisoned the well, and even once-good folk have fallen sway to greed.  It is too much to single out and punish individuals; better to gut the old system and begin fresh.”

Wraith watched him and as he started to trail off on his last thought, she looked again at the missile.

“By shooting this thing into what, exactly?  The Kane building?  Gotham Bay?  The Wayne Clock Tower?” she prompted, rattling off things and hoping to get a reaction out of him.  “Dude, call me realistic—”

“I think that’s pronounced pessimistic,” Anarky shot back dryly, giving her a flat look.

“I don’t see how that’s going to cause some great change to begin in Gotham’s government,” she declared bluntly.

“Well no, it wouldn’t,” he admitted, pursing his lips into a pout.  “Certainly nothing immediate or major.  It would be the first domino in the chain.”

“How exactly would that domino chain fall?” Yin’s voice abruptly interjected.  They both turned to face her, surprised she’d spoken up.  Her brown eyes studied Anarky momentarily before she looked at the silent weapon.  “If you fired this directly into any part of Gotham, more of those ‘little people’ you claim to champion would suffer than anyone you _want_ to see suffer.”

Wraith looked to Anarky again, surprised to see a faltering expression on his masked face.

_So he’s not a sociopath or a psychopath?!_ she thought in surprise.   _He_ does _care about what happens to innocent bystanders._

_Wraith!_ Guen said without warning.   _Give me control, I think I know what to say to him!_

Their switch was fluid, near-instantaneous this time, and Guen took a couple of cautious steps toward him, hoping her hunch was accurate.

“Detective Yin has a valid concern,” she said as soothingly as she could.  “No matter where you would choose to send the missile, everyone suffers from the aftershock.  But the common people would feel it the worst.  Please think about it, Anarky.  If you do that, nobody will see you as their champion.  They might even count you as bad as their oppressors.”

He didn’t meet her gaze but she saw him curling and uncurling his fists several times.  The lines around his mouth tightened, giving indication to his hesitance.  She was almost there!  Maybe he could be talked out of this after all!

“Do you want the people of Gotham to look at you and say you’re no better than their government?  Or the Joker?” she asked quietly.  He looked up at her again, his expression unreadable.  Tension hung in the stale air, leaving everyone’s breath suspended for a heartbeat.  Seconds ticked by, and then eventually Anarky’s shoulders sagged in defeat and he extended a hand, opening it to reveal what appeared to be a remote detonation switch.

“I’d not expected it to go this way.  You’ve surprised me, Miss Pendragon,” he confessed, casting his eyes down.  “Take it.  You’re free to seize evidence as you need, Detective.”

Guen heaved a silent exhale of relief, gingerly plucking the remote from his open hand.  “You’re doing the right thing, you know,” she tried to reassure him, turning to hand the switch off to her handler.

“Considering this isn’t a Joker missile at all,” Yin remarked, “he definitely is.”

Guen froze and could sense the masked man near her go still.

“It’s what?” she asked.  Yin lifted her eyebrows sharply.

“Take a look,” she ordered, tilting her chin to indicate the missile.  “You saw the paint too, right?  Not a bad attempt at recreating a Joker trademark, but if you’re going to fool us, I’d recommend getting a brand of paint that dries faster than what you used here, Anarky.”

Guen looked at the missile again, finally registered what Wraith had spotted earlier.  Of course!  The paint still looked glossy because it wasn’t completely dry!  Next to her, Anarky spat out what sounded like some foreign curse, drawing her attention back to him.

“So you _didn’t_ steal from the Joker,” she pointed out.  “But then why go to the trouble to make it look like you did?”

He shot both women a challenging look.  “Would you both have responded so quickly if I hadn’t told you it was one?” he queried.  Guen bit her lower lip.

_He’s probably got a point there,_ Wraith added a little begrudgingly.

“Probably not,” Yin admitted, slowly turning the remote button over in her hands.  “Though really, you’ve not stolen this at all, have you?”

Guen’s eyebrows nearly shot up to her hairline.  “Wait, he what?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Anarky, and Yin gave an underhanded toss.  The remote flipped gently through the air and appeared to slow down upon reaching the peak of its arc as Guen’s raptor vision zeroed in on it.  She reached out and snatched it, careful not to depress the button.  Safe and secure in her grip, she brought it close to her face to examine it.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; it just looked like a normal remote detonation switch.  Squinting, she looked it over once, twice, flipped it around… and saw the Kane logo blazoned on the back.  Her mouth fell open in shock, the missing piece of the puzzle finally clicking into place.

“I knew it,” she whispered, before the words spilled out of her in an enlivened rush.  “I knew it!  I _knew_ there was something significant about the proximity to the Kane building!  This is some kind of storage location that belongs to the owners, isn’t it?”

Anarky heaved a dramatic sigh as he answered.  “Yes yes, well done,” he huffed.  “We are in fact currently in a storehouse owned by Colonel Jacob Kane and his daughter Kate Kane.  I don’t know what the reason is for all the military paraphernalia, but I suspect it’s likely the former colonel hopes to make a museum from it or something in the future.”

“So you’re not guilty of theft, just breaking and entering and vandalism of property,” Yin pointed out wryly, a hand hovering over her two-way radio system as she stepped closer.  She frowned suspiciously.  “But if that’s the case I’m shocked Colonel Kane hasn’t contacted us himself regarding the matter.  I would have expected him to have _some_ kind of security system on any building he owns.”

“Oh he did!” Anarky confirmed.  “Max just bypassed it, that’s all.”

“Max?” both women queried, but he didn’t answer the question.  Instead he strode forward, extending both hands out with his wrists turned up in a show of surrender.

“Well?” he prompted patiently.  “Aren’t you going to cuff me?”

Mouth set in a firm line, Yin stepped forward, pulling a set of handcuffs from her belt and clicking them open.  Guen watched as the detective snapped the metal cuffs into place, tightening them around Anarky’s wrists.  For some reason this felt like it was going a little too smoothly.

_I was thinking the same thing,_ Wraith muttered in the back of her thoughts.   _Feels too easy._

_I’m just not sure,_ Guen mused, frowning.   _I do think we genuinely got through to him, but knowing our luck—_

_Yeah,_ Wraith agreed, watching Yin give the all-clear over the two-way radio.   _Knowing our luck, it isn’t going to hold out._


End file.
